


Spellbound

by VulpesOrion



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is a cat most of the time, F/M, Fluff and Angst, LadyNoir - Freeform, Magic AU, Marichat, ladrien, no kwamis, quite literally with the fluff, there will be lots of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesOrion/pseuds/VulpesOrion
Summary: Adrien Agreste, crown prince to the kingdom, is under a spell that has turned him into a black cat. The only way to break this spell is to earn true love's kiss from the Ladybug, renegade sorceress who spends her nights purifying the Akumas that are terrorizing the kingdom. This would seem easy, because Adrien and Ladybug are in love... but they have had their memories of each other erased! In his quest to find the Ladybug, Adrien the cat finds himself adopted by the baker's daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.





	1. The Stray

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to start off by saying that there will be zero historical accuracy to speak of in this fanfiction. We're going with "generic fantasy setting" to suit my needs. I may or may not also be making this up as I go... though I have a rough idea of where it should end up. Hope you guys like it!

He limped along, holding his paw close to his body, half-dead from the exhaustion and the sickness inside him.

He was burning.

He could not remember where it was that he had been going, only that it was very important that he find… someone. Every time that he tried to recall her face, it slipped away from him. He could not even remember how long he had been looking. It felt like forever.

And now he was beginning to forget even himself. Even if he possessed a tongue that could speak his name, he was uncertain that he could have answered in that moment. It was just so hard to _think_. The fever in his veins made his head foggy, and since the change his thoughts had become more… animal. Instinct driven. Right now, all he wanted to do was find somewhere to crawl into and hide.

He shook his head, trying to clear it but only managing to make the world wobble dangerously. No, he could not hide. A memory bubbled up, the cook explaining how cats would run away when it was their time. If he gave into this impulse, he would certainly die alone. No, he must not die, he must not hide… But he could rest.

The cat slowed to a stop under the shade of some swaying trees. Just for a little while, he promised himself as he laid down stiffly. A few minutes at the most. Just until he had his strength back…

* * *

The sun hung low in the sky, and Marinette was headed briskly for home. Gathering herbs was one of the only tasks for which her parents allowed her to go alone outside of city walls alone. She certainly was not about to ruin this chance by coming back after sundown; then they would _never_ let her go outside the city on her own.

Of course, if they had any idea what Marinette got up to in her spare time, she had little doubt that they would lock her in her room and throw away the key. For her own safety, of course.

Marinette quickened her pace. She did her best not to think about what would happen if her parents caught her, because it inevitably reminded her of the risk she put them at, should she be caught. Putting her family at risk made it hard to sleep at night, and more than once she had seriously considered giving it up to protect them. But the stories that reached them in the capitol city of Papillion were always enough to spur her on, because if she did not do something, then no one would.

Caught up in this well-rehearsed line of thought, Marinette barely registered what she was about to step on until the last moment. She squealed in surprise and leaped back, dropping the herbs she had been carrying in her apron. Marinette did not even look at them, but instead crouched to examine the small creature lying in the shade.

A jet-black cat lay stretched on its side, its breathing rapid and shallow. Its right foreleg was bloody and mutilated. ‘Must have been attacked,’ she thought. ‘Or maybe it was caught in a trap of some kind.’ Whatever had happened to the poor creature, one thing was certain. It was dying. The wounded paw oozed pus, and such a stench came off of it that Marinette had to cover her mouth and nose.

She knew that she ought to leave it. Maman and Papa would never allow it in the bakery in this condition. It could be carrying diseases, they would say. The poor cat would die soon anyway, and it would hurt them to watch her break her heart over it. There was nothing to be done. Except…

Except that they did not that there _was_ something that Marinette could do about it. Something that only she could do. And come to think of it, she had been toying with the idea of a living test subject for awhile…

Marinette bit her lip. The cat at her feet gave a tiny moan. ‘If I don’t do something,’ she asked herself, ‘who will?’

And just like that, the answer was clear. Marinette straightened and loosed her signature pigtails, retying them into a single ponytail. She gathered the discarded herbs and tied her other ribbon around them in a bundle, securing it to the belt at her waist. Then she removed her apron. Carefully, oh so carefully, she wrapped the apron around the cat and held it as tight as she dared. “What’s one more secret, hmm?” she said, half to herself and half to the cat.

A sliver of green peeked out from beneath one of the eyelids as the cat tried and failed to rouse itself into consciousness. It let out a thready meow. “Shhh, shhh, _mon minou_ , it’s okay,” Marinette murmured soothingly. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

* * *

When he next awoke, he was lying on a desk in a room he did not recognize. The cat shifted, trying to get to its feet, but quickly realized that this was useless; days of wandering, infection, and no food had taken their toll. He was as helpless as a kitten… literally. Instead, he allowed his eye to rove his surroundings.

The room was small – smaller, in fact, than any room he could ever remember having been in. There was a single window next to the bed covered with a handmade but beautifully stitched blanket. The girl who had picked him up earlier sat at the desk, studying a book by the light of a candle on the desk beside him. Her lips silently as she read intently. The cat tried once again to get up, this time managing to make it halfway to his feet, but his injured leg gave out under him, and he fell heavily back down.

The girl looked up at him, reaching out a hand to quiet him. The cat managed a weak hiss, and she withdrew her hand at once. “You shouldn’t move,” she advised quietly, her voice low and soft. “You’re very hurt.”

To a normal cat, this would have meant nothing, but this one understood perfectly. He did stop moving, but watched her warily, ready to bite her at the first sign of trouble.

“You should drink something,” the young woman added, pushing a bowl of water toward the cat. It was a simple little bowl, the cat observed, with no decoration to speak of. He had never imagined something so plain. The notion of drinking curdled his stomach. He looked at the bowl, his tail twitching in displeasure.

“You have a fever.” She nudged the bowl toward him again insistently. The cat wrinkled his nose and turned his head away. The woman with pigtails sighed and set the bowl aside. “Your loss.” She took a deep breath and let it own slowly, laying the book open on her lap. “Alright, kitty. I think I’m ready.”

‘Ready for what?’ the cat wondered. Even as he thought this, the girl stretched out her hand toward his infected paw. It took almost all of his strength to jerk the injured limb back. He flattened his ears to his head and hissed again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said in a soft, almost sing-song voice. “I’m going to help you, you’re going to be okay, but you need to be quiet because otherwise Maman and Papa will hear you before you’re better and then they will put you outside and I won’t be able to help you and yes I’m sorry but I need to touch your paw and I know it hurts but you’ll be much better soon an…” She kept up a constant babble, clearly relying on her tone rather than her words to soothe the wounded animal. And though he knew what she was saying, the cat still did not trust her. How was this going to help him? Maybe she was just going to help him into the stew pot, for all he knew. He thought he recalled stories of peasants eating cats.

Then again, considering his options, what did he have to lose? If he was going to die either way, he might as well sate his curiosity. Grudgingly, the cat sheathed its claws and allowed her to touch the wound.

She kept her tone the same, but her words changed to a muttered foreign language. The cat’s ears perked up in surprise. No… No way a peasant like her… It was not possible…

And yet it was. Even as he watched, the hand over his paw began to spark to light, illuminating the tiny room much more effectively than the candle. An odd, prickling sensation began in the paw and traveled slowly up his leg to suffuse his entire body. Before the cat could decide whether this sensation was pleasant or deeply uncomfortable, it had faded away, as did the light a moment later. Gone, too, was the fever haze that had plagued him. He looked around the room, fully alert for the first time.

“There we are!” She sat back and beamed at him. “You’re looking so much better! Oh, no, no, no, no.” She put a hand firmly on the cat’s back to stop him getting up. “You’re still dehydrated. Here, drink.” She set the bowl of water in front of the cat again.

This time, the cat drank eagerly, suddenly feeling the thirst of the last few days. All too soon, however, the bowl had been taken away again. He gave a protesting meow.

“Not too much too fast,” cautioned his savior. “You’ll be sick.”

The cat made a displeased noise and licked the remaining water droplets off its whiskers.

“Well, you’re certainly a lot more spunky when you’re not dying of infection,” commented the girl. “Oh, and look. I guess you’re not all black after all.”

The cat followed her gaze to its formerly injured foot. There, on the third toe of his right foot, was a small band of white. He stared at it intently, willing it to go away, hating the thing. So much so, in fact, that he had even tried to chew it off.

A moment later, he was distracted by the girl stroking his head gently. This was the first kind touch he had had in nearly a week. Instinctually, her arched up into her hand, closing his eyes contentedly.

“You sure are a cutie. My name is Marinette, and I guess you’re mine now. You’ll need a name.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see. We’ll call you…”

He opened her eyes and stared into her bright blue ones intently. ‘My name is Adrien,’ thought the cat. ‘I am Adrien Agreste, crown prince of this kingdom, and I am under a spell.’ He could not speak the words to her, but he willed her to sense them with all of his heart. If she had magic, then maybe…

“Felix,” Marinette said decisively. Adrien’s heart sank, but the next moment she had started to scratch behind his ears, and he had never known anything could feel this good… It took him a moment to realize that the deafening purring was coming from him. “Welcome home, _Chaton_.”


	2. The Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not question the inspiration fairy, she strikes when she strikes. Also, no beta readers, we die like men. (For real though if anyone wanted to be a beta reader I'd be 150% behind this.)

_She sat on his windowsill, dangling her feet over the edge carelessly. Had she been anyone else, Adrien would have worried that they would fall. Then again, no one else was able to scale the wall to reach his window. She had always been special._

_Also, the prince reflected glumly, she needed to be able to make a getaway at a moment's notice. The time between knocking and someone entering the prince's royal chambers would be a matter of life and death. Adrien sighed wistfully. He so wished that it did not have to be this way. He wanted to be with her always._

_"Are you listening to me?" Her voice was tinged with amusement, but Adrien winced, guilty at being caught daydreaming._

_"I'm sorry," he said. "I was distracted.”_

_“By what?” she asked, tilting her head to one side in that way that drove him crazy._

_“Well… you,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing._

_She laughed, then bit her lip. "Maybe I can distract you a little bit more?" she suggested shyly._

_It was Adrien's turn to laugh. "What did you have in mind?"_

_By way of answer, she leaned over the windowsill and wrapped her arms around his neck. "O-oh." Adrien’s mind went pleasantly blank as she leaned to brush her lips against his..._

 

* * *

 

His eyes snapped open, and he leaped to his feet. A few, tense moments passed before Adrien realized that it was had been his own tail brushing against his nose that had startled him awake. Disgusted with himself, he sat back on his haunches. Belatedly he tried to hold on to the memory of his dream, but it was already fading away. Adrien gave up and took stock of his situation.

Judging from the color of the sky outside the window, it was just past dawn. Marinette lay curled up on her stiff straw mattress, sleeping soundly. Adrien recalled that she had done her utmost to coax him into bed with her, but he had remained resolutely settled on the uncomfortable wooden chair. His intention had been to wait for her to fall asleep and then investigate the book of magic he had seen her using. 'Well,' he observed wryly, 'that plan really didn't work out.'

Still, no time like the present. Adrien hopped down off of the chair without a sound, taking a moment to stretch luxuriously. Aside from the fact that he was still a cat, he felt great. When he figured out how to change back, he would need to find some way to repay Marinette for her kindness... without giving away her secret, of course.

Yes, that was another thing, Adrien thought as he crept toward the bed. Even if she had only performed it on a cat, casting magic of any sort had been an extreme risk. Any commoner caught performing magical acts would be put to death, no questions asked. The law was very rarely enacted, as magical ability outside of the royal or high families was uncommon, and without the proper training, it was unlikely that a peasant would be able to create more than a few sparks. Adrien's infection had been quite serious. If she was able to cast that spell with no formal magical education... The depth of Marinette's raw power boggled the mind.

Which, Adrien reminded himself, was precisely why he needed her help once again. If he could find something in that book that would remove the spell on him and communicate to Marinette to cast it, he would be home before sundown. It would help immensely to understand how he had ended up like this in the first place...

Even the passing thought made Adrien's head throb. He strongly suspected that part of the magic binding him to this form kept him from remembering, but he sensed that he could break through this part of the spell given enough time and effort. And pain tolerance. Still, if a simpler solution was available he would investigate it first. Adrien dropped down onto his belly and crawled under the bed.

He had watched Marinette carefully as she stashed the book in a wooden box last night. Adrien had anticipated the biggest challenge would be figuring out how to turn the pages without hands. To his dismay, he realized there was a much more immediate problem. The box was warded.

Adrien sat down and stared at the box in mixed amazement and confusion. It was stunningly intricate. The sigils on the box alone must have taken hours, not to mention those floating around it, invisible to all but those gifted with magic. Marinette had rigged the box to ensure that if anyone other than her tried to open it, the whole thing would go up in flames. An impressive trick, no doubt, but at the same time, it did not make sense. _Owning_  books of magic was not inherently illegal... But there was no clearer way to display that she was practicing than having a box erupt into magical fire.

If he could have, Adrien would have frowned. As it was, he narrowed his eyes slightly, examining the hovering symbols. If he understood them correctly, he was almost positive he knew how to break the charm. Adrien hesitated. Using magic was not something that he felt comfortable with, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He took a deep breath and reached out with his mind toward the box.

A sharp rap came at the door. Adrien jumped and hit his head on the bottom of Marinette's mattress. He streaked out from under the bed, yowling in surprise and pain. Marinette was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes blearily. When she saw the black cat, her face lit up. "Oh! I almost forgot about you!" She cast an anxious glance at the door, then wiggled her fingers to attempt to draw Adrien over to her.

Adrien considered ignoring her, embarrassed that he had been caught trying to break into Marinette’s things. Reminding himself that she did not know what he had intended, he forced himself to casually saunter over. Marinette stood and scooped him up into her arms. "Come on," she said. "It's time for us to make your case."

* * *

 

The story that Marinette presented was this: she had left her bedroom window open to get some fresh air the evening before, and when she woke up in the morning, the cat had just been there. She was pleased to find that Félix played his role beautifully, winding himself between her ankles and looking the all with almost comic adoration. If she did not know better, she would think he was hamming it up on purpose. She just hoped his natural charm would be enough.

"So the cat just... happened to come in your window? Upstairs?" Sabine clarified, eyeing her daughter suspiciously.

"Yes?" Marinette gave what she hoped was a winning smile. A cat climbing to an open window on the second story of a house did seem rather far-fetched, but it was more plausible than reality; Marinette had climbed out of it herself and then climbed back up, one-handed, to ensure that her parents would not see the wounded creature. She could almost see her mother trying to puzzle out the truth, but falling short every time.

Tom Dupain, in the meantime, was silent, watching Félix and barely suppressing a smile. Marinette knew that he was already sold on the little black cat. Recognizing an ally, Félix scampered around the kitchen after Marinette's father, rubbing his cheek against the man's boots whenever he stopped for more than a few seconds.

Sabine was not so easily swayed. "Owning a cat costs money, Marinette," she pointed out, cutting to the chase.

Marinette grimaced. "We-ell..." she said slowly. "I thought maybe we could use a good mouser for the bakery."

"We did have that whole batch of rolls ruined last winter," Tom pointed out. He had abandoned all pretense and was now taking a break from unloading bread from the oven to scratch Félix's head. Sabine cast her husband a look that clearly translated to  _'you're no help'_.

"How do we know he'd be any good at mousing? He looks pretty skinny." Sabine jabbed an accusing finger at the black cat.

At once, Félix freed himself from Tom's attentions and dropped into a stalking position, hunting something only he seemed to be able to see. He pounced at nothing, his momentum carrying back behind a sack of flour. Marinette bit back a laugh. Tom did not bother, but laughed heartily.

The bell rang from the front, signaling customers. Sabine threw up her hands in exasperation. "It's clear that I'm outnumbered here. This is a trial-period  _only_ ," she cautioned Marinette. "He has to earn his keep, or else he's out of here." She wiped her hands on her apron and moved to help the customers up front. "Oh," Marinette's mother added, pausing in the doorway. "And one more thing. After you're done helping in here... He's awfully dirty, don't you think?"

Félix, who had just emerged from behind the flour, turned tail and fled.

* * *

 

Humilation.

Complete and utter humilation.

Logically, Adrien could understand. He was covered in mud and dust and even leftover dried blood. That was to say nothing for the smell. Marinette's parents ran a bakery, and a mangy looking cat would be bad for business. Yes, Marinette had been as quick about it as possible. Yes, she had fed him afterwards. She had even spent a few of her own precious coppers to buy him a bell - for decoration only, of course. A mouser could not be ringing with every step.

But that did not mean that he forgave her. That water had been very, very cold, and, revolted though he was with himself, when he was set free he was irresistibly compelled to spend ages licking his fur back into its proper place. A prince, _licking himself_. If Nathalie could see him now, Adrien was certain she would die of shame.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Marinette chided. She was seated in her chair again, mending a dress that some woman had dropped off at the bakery that afternoon. From what Adrien gathered, Marinette worked as a seamstress in the evenings to earn the family some more coins.

Adrien flicked an ear in her direction. Acknowledged and ignored. Instead, he made a show of settling himself more comfortably on Marinette’s only pillow and staring at the wall. _‘You take my dignity, I take the pillow.’_

“Fine,” Marinette sighed. “Be that way. You can’t sulk forever, though.” He heard rather than saw her put down her work and the scrape of the chair as she stood up. In spite of himself, Adrien peeked over his shoulder and watched as Marinette poked her head out into the hallway and then closed her door cautiously. The young woman moved swiftly over to the bed, crouching down to retrieve a now-familiar box. Excitement sparked in Adrien’s belly. _Finally._

Marinette paid no mind as “Félix” wandered over to her, meowing. Instead, Adrien watched as her clever fingers undid the latch and opened the box. The lid blocked the contents from view, but before Adrien could do anything about it, she had shut the box tightly again and shoved it back under the bed.

Instead of reseating herself at the desk, Marinette settled herself on the floor, placing the book on the floor in front of her and leafing through the pages. Adrien trotted after her, sitting down at her side. Marinette reached out one hand to pet his head absently as she turned the pages, but Adrien paid no attention, focusing on the book instead. Even brief glimpses of each page were enough for Adrien to comprehend the significance of what he was seeing. This was no ordinary book of charms – this was powerful creation magic, the likes of which even Adrien had never seen before. His father would have paid at least fifty gold pieces for it, enough for Marinette and her family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives! He wondered if Marinette knew what she had in front of her.

Given that Marinette chose to dog-ear the page she was searching for once she found it, Adrien guessed not. Horrified, Adrien pawed reproachfully at the now-creased corner.

“Go on, kitty.” Marinette shooed him away, not unkindly. “I need to focus.”

Adrien took a few steps back and sat down to watch as Marinette dug out some charcoal to sketch a circle on the floor. A summoning circle, Adrien recognized, as she started to add in sigils carefully, checking the book every few seconds to be sure of her work. More than once, he approached the circle to examine the symbols, curious as to what she was trying to summon, but each time Marinette sent him away before he could get a proper look.

At last, Marinette sat back, looking between the book and her circle several times before giving a sigh and setting the tome aside. She leaned forward and placed her hands in the circle, glancing at Adrien. “Ready, Félix?” Marinette gave him a nervous smile, then closed her eyes.

Adrien’s fur stood on end as an energy filled the room. The power grew and grew until Adrien felt that he would suffocate under the weight of the intense magic being summoned with nowhere to go. ‘Marinette, stop!’ he wanted to cry, but could only manage a strangled, piteous mew. Mercifully, Marinette released the spell, and the force in the room gradually drained away. On wobbly legs, Adrien stumbled over to her.

To his surprise, Adrien realized that the young woman was crying. She pulled the black cat into her lap and combed her fingers through his fur. Adrien purred softly, trying to comfort her. “How are you supposed to summon something when you don’t know what you’re looking for?”

‘You can’t,’ Adrien thought sadly. His heart went out to the girl who had risked everything to help a stray cat. Laws or no laws, he wished more than anything in the world he could teach her what he knew of magic, to repay the kindness that she and her family had shown him. As it was, all he could do was put his paws on her chest and reach up to nuzzle the tears away. It had the desired effect. Marinette laughed and kissed his forehead.

A strange sort of shiver went through Adrien’s entire body, and a voice echoed in his memory. _‘If she will love you as you are…’_ Who had said that to him?

Adrien’s thought process was interrupted as she lifted him gently out of her lap and rose. She set her spellbook on the desk, then set about cleaning up the summoning circle. Seizing on this opportunity, Adrien scampered over to the desk and bounded up to lay claim to the book. By the time that Marinette had finished sweeping, he was settled squarely on the cover, feigning sleep.

“Ugh. _Fé_ lix,” Marinette complained, attempting to push him off the book. Adrien opened his eyes and channeled every sad moment that he had ever had in his life into this one look. _‘You wouldn’t really make me get off when I’m so comfortable, would you?’_ Marinette sighed and looked over her shoulder worriedly at the door. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t get used to it.”

It was all Adrien could do not to jump for joy. Instead he yawned hugely and lay his head back down on the book as Marinette blew out the candles and got into bed. Adrien waited. Minutes ticked by. Two minutes, five minutes, ten. When at last he was certain that the pattern of her breathing had relaxed into sleep, he stood up and turned gleefully to gaze upon his prize. This wonderful, wonderful book would be his salvation.

* * *

 

            This horrible, useless book was getting him nowhere. Several hours and stinging papercuts on his nose, paws, and tongue later, Adrien was forced to admit what he had begun to suspect fifty pages previously – the book could not help him. Oh, certainly it contained a great many fascinating and potent magics. Adrien could picture himself at home in the palace, spending a sunlit afternoon curled up in the library with this book. But as far as shapeshifting a cat into a prince? Nothing. Not a single, solitary hint of information. Adrien wanted to scream with frustration.

            The discouraged cat looked out the window at the moon hanging low in the sky. Dawn would be coming in a few short hours. If he was to stay here, as of tomorrow he was expected to start proving his prowess as a hunter. The idea of mousing was not deeply appealing, but neither was ending up hungry and cold on the streets. Until he had a better plan for getting home, Adrien was staying put, but that meant that he needed his rest.

He leapt lightly from the desk and climbed onto the straw mattress next to Marinette. She draped an arm over him sleepily and Adrien shut his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to overtake him. Just as he was starting to drift into sleep, the same voice drifted to the front of his mind. _‘If the Ladybug will see you as you are, and if she will love you as you are, then the spell will be broken.’_ Adrien’s eyes shot wide, as fully awake as if someone had just doused him with frigid water. He remembered… But who or what on earth was the Ladybug?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dork is a dork, no matter what shape he's in. Hope that answers your question, PrincessOfHarte. See you guys next time!


	3. Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I forgot about you guys, didn't you? Sorry for the long delay. Life got in the way for a bit - horrible JavaScript class, trying to start a fandom soap etsy shop, etc etc. Finally got a few days off to write again, so here we are! A thank you to my two dear betas - you know who you are.

For once in her life, Marinette was not bored to tears running the front of the bakery. The post-lunch lull was broken by the little black cat sitting in the window, utterly fascinated by the people walking by. Félix had spent most of yesterday hiding from his bath or nursing an injured pride. Today he was people-watching. ‘To think,’ Marinette reflected with a smile, ‘two days ago he was dying, and now his biggest problem is leaving nose smudges on the front window.’

“Not much of a mouser, is he?” her father commented dryly.

Marinette jumped slightly and looked over at him. “I don’t see any mice,” she pointed out, feeling protective of her new pet. “And he brought me a bug this morning, so at least we know he’s looking!”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tom said with a chuckle. “I’m fine with keeping him either way.” His tone softened. “I know you get lonely around here, Marinette. Your heart isn’t in baking, not like it is for me and your mother. Keeping you from an apprenticeship is only a temporary measure, you know…”

“I know.” Marinette gave him a warm smile, but in her heart, she wondered if what he said was true. It was no secret that she had long coveted an apprentice with the tailor, Caline. It was also no secret that Caline desperately wanted Marinette as an apprentice. The woman had turned down other potential students for years, and referred her customers to Marinette when she had more work than she could currently handle. Marinette was grateful, but would the day ever really come that Maman and Papa could do without her? Marinette did not like to think too much about it.

“He seems to be good for business,” Marinette said, turning the conversation back to safer waters. A mother and her child had just stopped to look Félix in the window. The little boy waved excitedly. Félix raised his paw and seemed to wave back, flexing his claws. The child screamed with delight.

“That’s good! Though there are some people who consider black cats bad luck.”

Marinette laughed out loud. “I think Félix doesn’t have a problem when it comes to luck.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

Oops. Rescuing the cat was supposed to be a secret. Marinette backtracked. “I mean, he found a home now, didn’t he?” She tittered nervously.

“Hmmm.” Tom frowned thoughtfully. “Fair point.”

“How is the cake coming back there?” Marinette added, switching topics quickly.

Tom hummed and nodded. “Very well indeed. Your mother is just putting on the finishing touches. One thing I will say about these Akuma, they are good for the wedding business. People are getting married all over the place. Don’t want to waste time, I suppose, with all this uncertainty.”

Marinette did her best to ignore how her chest tightened painfully. ‘Were we thinking of getting married?’ she wondered. Once again, the sense of deep and unspeakable loss overtook her, and it was all she could do not to collapse into hopeless tears there and then.

‘No.’ She blinked a few times, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘No more crying.’ Despair got her nowhere. Magic could. Yes, the spell the night before had failed to summon so much as a fingernail, but she had to keep trying to find him… when she was not stuck minding the bakery.

Marinette’s train of thought was completely derailed by the sudden appearance of her best friend. Alya burst into the bakery, brandishing a flyer. “Have you seen it?!” she exclaimed, then yelped as she stumbled over the cat, who had jumped down from his perch to greet her. “Who’s this?” she asked, momentarily sidetracked.

“New member of the family,” Marinette explained. The affronted-looking Félix stalked over and jumped up to settle himself on the counter. Marinette reached out one hand to scratch his ears. “Alya, Félix. Félix, Alya.”

“I had best get back to helping your mother,” Tom said, giving Marinette a look that she knew well. _‘You can talk to your friend, but customers come first.’_ She nodded once to show her understanding, grateful to her father to giving them some privacy.

“Nice to meet you, Félix,” Alya greeted the cat, holding out her hand for him knuckles first. “I’m sorry I tripped on you. Truce?” Félix sniffed delicately at the proffered hand, then rubbed his cheek against it. Alya gave a satisfied little smile, then turned her attention back to Marinette. “So, have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Marinette hated Alya’s habit of talking around big news to build suspense.

In answer, Alya slapped the flyer down on the counter. “The king has had us printing them all morning. The reward for the Ladybug has gone up to two hundred gold pieces.”

Marinette gaped. “Two… Two _hundred_ gold pieces?” she echoed weakly. “But why? I mean… She didn’t do anything. She’s helping people."

“Last I checked, magic is still illegal for non-nobility,” Alya pointed out. “But it isn’t just that. Now they’re saying that she kidnapped the prince.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Félix jumped about a foot in the air, startled by Marinette’s shriek. His tail poofing out would have been quite comical, but Marinette hardly noticed, staring at Alya in horror.

“I know!” agreed Alya, gesticulating wildly. “I would never have thought, you know? He’s been missing for almost a week now, though, so I don’t really see what else it could be… You okay, girl?”

“I’m fokay. I mean, I’m just good. I mean…” Marinette prayed that Alya would not notice that she was gripping the counter so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, but she feared if she let go that she would faint. “What do you think they’ll do to her, if they catch her?” she wondered aloud, terrified of the answer.

“Not sure,” Alya said. “The flyers specify that they want her alive, so maybe they’re going to have a trial. At the very least, they will want her to tell them how to find the prince.” She pointed to line on the flyer that outlined this stipulation. Marinette took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. They would not kill her outright. Not until she refused to tell them where the prince was. _‘How am I supposed to tell them something that I don’t know?’_ she wanted to scream.

She was vaguely aware that Alya was still talking. “… her tonight.”

“What? Sorry, I was distracted.”

“I said, there’s a good chance they’ll even catch her tonight. There’s an Akuma set to appear in Lorenvale. She always shows up.”

“Maybe tonight she won’t,” Marinette muttered, more to herself than Alya. Félix nosed the flyer gently. Marinette fought the useless impulse to tear the paper up.

“Of course she will,” said Alya with such conviction that Marinette snapped out of her stupor.

“What makes you say that?” she asked cautiously.

“Well, for one, I don’t really think that she kidnapped the prince,” Alya said vehemently. “There has to be more to that story. She’s a hero. She won’t let the king’s guards… She will help that village.”

Marinette felt a rush of affection toward her friend, but was careful to school her expression to let none of it show. Deep down, Marinette knew that she would have made the choice to face the Akuma tonight on her own, but her friend’s confidence in the Ladybug strengthened her resolve. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m sure she’ll come.”

Alya grinned, then groaned suddenly, her shoulders slumping. “I should probably get back. I sort of snuck away to show this to you, but I couldn’t wait! Do you think your parents would mind if…?” She gestured toward the front of the shop. Marinette frowned, puzzled. “We’re supposed to put them up on every shop front in town,” Alya explained. “It will save me a trip later.”

“Oh.” Marinette grimaced. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just make sure not to block a window.”

Alya hummed in acknowledgement. Marinette made a show of rearranging a few of the pastries in the cabinet to avoid listening to Alya affixing the poster to their shop. As soon as she was sure Alya was gone, Marinette slumped forward on the counter.

“Mrrup?” asked Félix.

“Mmph,” groaned Marinette in agreement.

* * *

  
The sun hung low in the sky. Adrien watched from his perch, feeling his apprehension growing as it continued its descent toward the horizon. His time was growing short.

A few customers milled around the bakery, a last stop before home to pick up bread for their supper. The bakery would close promptly at sundown, and by that time Adrien knew that he needed to be gone.

Yet a part of Adrien – a bigger part than he wanted to admit – longed to stay just one more day. The Dupain-Cheng bakery was full of a warmth and love that he had never experienced before. Humble their lifestyle may be, but the longer Adrien spent here, the more that he felt he would have traded his life in the castle in an instant for the chance to be a part of this world… But as a person, not as a pet.

‘I’ll come back,’ he vowed, not for the first time. ‘Once the curse is gone, I will come back. I will tell Marinette everything. I will help her on her study of magic, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she is never, ever found out by anyone who would hurt her.’

With this promise in his heart, Adrien leaped down from his perch at the window and wound his way carefully through the sea of legs. No one paid the black cat any mind as he slid out on the heels of a customer carrying a long loaf of bread. It was only after he was outside that Adrien chanced a look back. He caught a final glimpse of Mme. Cheng and Marinette talking to a man at the counter before the door swung shut. Adrien felt a little pang as they disappeared. ‘Thank you,’ he thought to them, willing them to somehow sense his gratitude from the bottom of his heart.

He lingered for just one moment longer in front of Tom and Sabine’s bakery, his attention swiveling to the poster plastered on the front. Adrien studied the artist’s rendition of the Ladybug, committing to memory the woman’s spotted mask and the cloak that billowed around her. At last he turned away, scampering off into the gathering evening.

He was surprised to find that he was still in the capitol city of Papillion. Hazy though his memory was of the days between becoming a cat and Marinette’s rescue, Adrien had thought that he had travelled much farther. In truth, the Dupain-Chengs’ bakery was only a few short kilometers from Adrien’s front door. Adrien stored this information away for future use.

In the short term, he considered as he stole down a narrow alleyway, it also kept his options open. His half-baked plans of hitching a ride on the back of a passing carriage would not be needed. That still left him with three options.

First, Adrien could return to the palace. King Gabriel was the most powerfully magical individual in the land. If anyone could break the curse, it was his father. However, given Marinette’s complete inability to sense that Adrien was more than a cat, the young prince was wary of trying this option. The castle was heavily warded against magical spies from neighboring kingdoms. If he was not recognized, the best he could hope for was being ignored. Worst case scenario, it would be assumed he was an enemy and killed on sight. Not ideal, to say the least.

Adrien skirted a dubious looking puddle. Second option, he continued his mental narrative, would be to find the Ladybug and get her to love him. (He supposed this meant a kiss - that was traditional, after all.) While his scattered memories seemed to indicate that was the best way out of his current furry situation, Adrien was not convinced of this plan, either. The Ladybug was suspected of kidnapping him – what if the rumors were true? What if she had been the one to trap him like this? Based on Alya’s conversation with Marinette, it remained a distinct possibility. Even if his memory of the conditions of his curse proved true, Adrien suspected he would have a difficult time convincing a renegade sorceress to pause to kiss a black cat.

Which left option number three. Adrien had to try to break the curse himself. Of course, Adrien had tried this option before, days ago, but he had been exhausted, frightened, hungry, and, after a certain point, deathly ill. Now, thanks to Marinette, Adrien was back at full strength and prepared to tap into his magical energies and break the spell. This, however, meant that he needed to be as far away from people as possible. He could not risk someone getting hurt. Which why Adrien now found himself slinking past the guards at the city gate.

The guards did nothing more than glance at him. They had more important duties than keeping a stray inside the city limits. Outside the walls, Adrien deliberately turned away from the usual paths travelers took through these woods, choosing instead to lose himself within the tangled thickets and bushes. It crossed his mind briefly to worry about creatures who might think a black cat as easy prey, then dismissed this thought. Woe be unto the wolf who chanced upon him as unleashed his raw power. No cantrips or magic circles or conduits this time. Just Adrien letting down the control he had spent years carefully constructing.

Night had well and truly fallen by the time that Adrien decided he was deep enough into the trees that the odds of an unlucky soul chancing upon him were minimal. He paced anxiously around the spot he had chosen, a small clearing sheltered by the trees. Even now, Adrien had a hard time convincing himself to go through with his attempt. Fear clawed at his insides, as it had every single day since his magical aptitude test at the age of ten. The day that he had reduced his instructor’s desk to dust. An instant earlier and it would have been the instructor himself.

Adrien took a deep, calming breath, then closed his eyes and dredged up every scrap of magical energy that he could muster. He held this power for one moment, two. Then he let the magic pour out of him.

The effect was instant and agonizing. Every bone in Adrien’s body felt like it was breaking itself into a million pieces. His skin was on fire. Adrien could feel each and every hair retracting into his skin with searing pain. He opened his eyes for just a moment, but immediately had to shut them again. The sight of his paws bubbling grotesquely and reshaping themselves into crude hands nearly made him vomit. Dimly, Adrien was aware of a high, inhuman shriek in his ears. He thought perhaps that might be coming from him.

Suddenly, Adrien could not breathe. The bell that Marinette had so lovingly tied around his neck was too tight. He ripped at it frantically, digging gouges into his own neck in his desperation to get it off. Adrien’s claw caught the ribbon and snapped it. Air rushed back, and Adrien collapsed face down on the ground, heaving in great lungfuls of air.

It took a few moments for Adrien’s head to stop spinning, and a few more for him to realized that the transformation had stopped. The prince opened his eyes and sat up shakily, realizing as he did so that he was sitting in the center of a circle of powdery ash. Adrien summoned all of his courage, then held up his hands. His spirits plummeted.

Certainly, his appendages were shaped like hands now instead of paws, but they were still covered in a soft, dark fur. His palm and fingertips had pink paw pads, and as he flexed his fingers of his left hand experimentally, he felt a claw extend. Midway down his forearm, the fur seemed to have fused into some sort of something akin to black fabric, but Adrien was nearly certain that there was no skin underneath. In a dazed sort of horror, Adrien slid his hands - paws? - over his body. The only place that seemed to be spared the black “cloth” was his head, and even there the portion around his eyes was covered in downy-soft fur. His feet had received much the same treatment as his hands, elongating to resemble something midway between cat and man. Worst of all, he could feel his tail flicking around behind him, stirring the ash, and atop his head were two large, catlike ears.

He had to fix this. He could not live his life this way. Adrien summoned his energy to try again, only to meet a firm wall of magic. Beyond this point, the curse would not budge.

Adrien might have given himself over to frustration and despair, but just then a cloud moved away from the fat, full moon and Adrien caught something metal glimmer in the moonlight on the third finger of his right hand. His heart leapt. The ring! He had nearly missed it in the inky darkness of his fur. Adrien tore at it with his other hand, trying with all of his might to wrench it off. The jet-black ring did not budge. Adrien grasped it between his teeth and tugged hard, making a feral little noise of impatience and frustration. It still did not move so much as a centimeter. Desperate, Adrien briefly wondered what would happen if he tried to cut off the finger altogether, when a thought that should have been his first question struck him.

Adrien froze, letting his hand fall to his side. This would be the moment of truth, and he was almost afraid to try. He licked his lips. “Aahh,” he said experimentally.  
The sound came out just like Adrien had hoped it would, and his heart sped up with excitement. “Aaahh,” he said again, voice hoarse from all the screaming. “I… I… It works.” And then he was on his feet, leaping up and down excitedly and giving a triumphant whoop. “IT WORKS!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, punching the air. “I DID IT!” It did not matter that he was still some cat-human abomination. If he had his voice back, that meant that he could tell his father who he was. Adrien was saved. It was time to go home.

Adrien looked around, trying to recall the path that he had taken from Papillion, and only now absorbed the true price of his victory. The grass and moss beyond his small circle of ash had withered away to nothing, and the trees for meters around him were dead and blackened. Adrien felt a twinge of guilt and fear as he examined the changes wrought by the unchecked destruction magic that had poured from him. This proof of what he was capable of… He shuddered, looking down at the ground, and for the second time that night, a metallic shine caught his eye. Gingerly, he bent down and scooped Marinette’s bell up, blowing gently to dispel the ash. Adrien gave it a fond little smile, thankful that it had survived.

 _Snap!_ Adrien’s ears swiveled toward the sound of a breaking twig, hand instinctively closing around the golden bell. He tensed, remembering his earlier concerns about beasts in this forest, but his sensitive ears picked up on the sound on not four, but two feet making their way rapidly across the mossy earth. Before Adrien had decided whether to meet this newcomer or hide, she was upon him.

Adrien knew he was staring. He could not help it. He recognized her at once, not just from her spotted mask from the drawing, but in the way that she held herself, the fierce look upon her face as she stopped short at the sight of him. Unlike the picture, her hooded cloak was not red, but a deep indigo that made her nearly invisible in the moonlight. The artist had also utterly failed to capture the eyes that turned on him now – perhaps not his fault, as he had only been able to work with only black ink, but Adrien thought that nothing could convey the bright blue that burned into him. His heart squeezed with delicious pain at the sight of her. “Who are you?” the Ladybug demanded.

Forgetting his fear that she was the one who had cursed him, Adrien opened his mouth and tried to answer honestly. All that came out was a little rasping noise. He tried again, but the magic stopped his tongue cold. The giddy elation of a moment before drained away. _‘I’m cursed!’_ he wanted to howl, but his mouth would not obey.

She was still staring at him, waiting for a response. Robbed of the truth, Adrien gave the first answer he could think of. “Chat Noir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Chat decides to bite off his finger and go by Frodo Noir. Chat Noirdo.
> 
> Okay, no. See you guys next time! Don't forget to leave comments, they give me life!


	4. Ladybug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think that I forgot about all of you? Not on your life! Grad school and life in general have kept me busy, but I am here with another chapter for you! I hope it is to your liking. I may go back and edit it later, but I thought that you all had waited long enough.
> 
> I also wanted to let you know that it was your responses that kept me coming back to this story. Every Kudos that appeared in my inbox on occasion made me open up the document and write a few lines. They added up.

A chilly breeze brushed over her face. Ladybug shivered and wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. For the first time, it crossed her mind how rapidly winter was approaching, and with it frequent rains and occasional snowfall. The idea of trying to scale up and down Papillon’s protective walls in the rain was deeply unappealing at best, life-threatening at worst. She would have to figure out how to stop the Akuma for good, or she was going to have to find a new way out of the city.

Ladybug added this to her mental list of problems to solve, which seemed to be lengthening exponentially in the past fortnight. Now not only did she have to fight the Akuma, figure out where they were coming from, find someone who may or may not exist, evade capture, and conceal her identity, but now she had to prove that she had not kidnapped a member of the royal family. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Ladybug felt more frustrated than frightened. She had nothing to gain by kidnapping a prince! Surely this would be obvious to anyone who she came in contact with, in spite of the propaganda...

But then again, it might not matter if they believed her or not, Ladybug reflected grimly. With her bounty now at such a ludicrous sum, at some point it would become a choice between supporting the mysterious folk hero or some farmer ensuring a future for his family.

A distant hair-raising wail broke the night stillness. At once, Ladybug lassoed her way into the nearest tree and leaped into the branches, pressing against the trunk as she scanned the woods around her for threats. Nothing appeared from the bushes, though the wailing continued not too far off. A horrible thought struck Ladybug, and she looked up at the sky urgently, but the moon was hidden by clouds. Ladybug leaped from the tree, redoubling her pace as she sprinted toward the source of the noise. If the Akuma had made it all the way here, then Lorenvale must be...

As suddenly as the unearthly scream had begun, it stopped. Far from soothing Ladybug's nerves, her heart hammered harder against her ribcage. Visions of some victim torn to pieces because she had not made it in time swam unbidden to the front of her mind. "Please, please..." she muttered to herself under her breath. As though in answer, the clouds shifted, bathing the forest in silvery light. Ladybug cast a glance up at the moon, then slowed, puzzled. It was nowhere near midnight. Unless her adversary had discovered a way to change his pattern, the Akuma could not possibly be here.

Ladybug was debating whether to investigate or write the sound off as some kind of animal cry when a second sound reached her ears, this one undeniably human. But this was no shriek of pain. Someone was... whooping. Celebrating.

Confusion and curiosity won out. Ladybug followed the sound, weaving her way through the trees as silently as she could manage in the dim light. After months of concealing the sound of her movements, she was practiced, but not infallible. A poorly placed step snapped the tiniest of twigs, and the voice died away instantly. Berating herself internally, Ladybug quickened her pace and burst into a clearing. Her first thought was that the place was oddly dark. Half a moment later, she realized that everything here was dead – from the shriveled trees to the blackened grass. It looked almost as if it had been struck by lightning. Such a sight would have been strange enough, but the oddness of her surrounding paled in comparison to the creature standing in the midst of the destruction.

Huge green eyes glittered at her in the moonlight as the part-man, part-beast stared at her. The thing was almost entirely black, blending in with the decimated surroundings, but Ladybug could make out huge, claw-like hands and feet. Its face seemed more or less human, but a blaze of black fur surrounded those massive eyes and oversized, cat-like ears poked out from beneath his rumpled hair. Almost in mockery, the hair was truly beautiful, shining a faint gold in the moonlight. The contrast made the creature seem all the more grotesque. ‘This must be the new Akuma, somehow,’ decided Ladybug, though she had to admit that she had never seen an Akuma like this before. Her hand went to her yo-yo and she dropped into a defensive crouch. The creature only stared at her, his tail stirring up the ashes as it swished gently behind him.

"Who are you?" Ladybug asked at last in guarded tones. The answer could not have surprised her more if he had declared that he was King Gabriel Agreste himself.

"Chat Noir," were the words that fell from his lips, and Ladybug could not conceal the look of shock that crossed her features. Bizarrely, judging by the way that his ears twitched and his pupils blew wide, the self-declared Chat Noir seemed nearly as surprised by her reaction.

Ladybug schooled her expression into something more neutral, narrowing her eyes as she appraised this stranger. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was looking for you," Chat Noir said at once.

Given his chosen pseudonym, she was unsurprised. What really mattered was… "Why?"

At this, the cat-creature opened his mouth to speak, coughed, and then closed it again. "It’s… complicated?" he answered at last, his voice lilting upwards to make the statement into a question.

Ladybug’s eyes flicked back to the moon making its steady track past its zenith. "I don’t have time for complicated right now," she said.

"I... wanted to talk to you." Chat Noir seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. "I wanted to see if you knew me. I..." He coughed again and fell silent, rubbing at his throat.

'Of course I don't know you,' was Ladybug's first thought, but the strange nature of the question made her think twice. Instead Ladybug frowned and took a step forward, then another, peering through the dim light. She stopped within arm's length, one hand remaining on her yo-yo in case he attacked suddenly. Chat Noir, for his part, stood perfectly still. The longer she looked at him, the less horrifying his mix of animal and human features seemed. She squinted, trying to picture what he would look like as a normal person, all too aware of how intently he was watching her. At last, she moved away, shaking her head. "I don't know you," she said. She felt a twinge of guilt as his face fell, but no stir of recognition. "I'm sorry," she added, surprised to find that she meant it, then looked back at the moon. Time was running dangerously low. "I need to go. There are people who need my help."

She had anticipated that this would be the end of the exchange. His reply came at once. "Lead the way."

Amazing how nearly everything out of his mouth could knock her off balance. Ladybug bit her lip. On the one hand, if he was calling himself Chat Noir, she should have expected that he wanted to help. On the other, the timing of him showing up after her bounty had been raised exponentially was too coincidental for comfort. Not to mention she had no idea who – or what! – he was.

All of this she considered in a split second before solidifying her answer. Yes, he may well be an enemy in disguise, but if that was the case she would rather keep an eye on him.

(And a piece of her, bigger than she cared to admit, wanted to believe that he was telling the truth, and she would no longer be alone in all of this.)

"This way," was all she said before taking off into the night.

* * *

Had it not been for his improved night vision and hearing, Adrien was certain that he would have lost Ladybug in the trees. As it was, there were two close calls. The cloak blended nearly seamlessly into the darkness. He quickly realized that he needed to keep close behind her. He found himself falling into the rhythm of her movements. Where she stepped, he stepped. After a time, it seemed as easy to Adrien as breathing, leaving his mind free to consider other matters.

Ladybug was... not what he had expected. For one, he had thought that she would be much older, but now Adrien thought she could not possibly be more than a few years older than he was. He had half-expected her to kill him on sight when they spoke despite Alya's proclamation that she was a hero, but from the moment he laid eyes on her, Adrien had known that she would not hurt him. He could not put his finger on it, but something about her inspired trust. Perhaps it was the fact that she had listened to him and taken him seriously. Just being able to talk to someone for a change was wonderful.

But where on earth had that name come from? His mind kept circling back to it with mixed confusion and mortification. It was insanely literal, and while he found that he did like the sound of it, Adrien would have understood if she had laughed in his face. For some reason, the name seemed to mean something to her, though Adrien could not guess what. Whatever the case, for the time being, Chat Noir he would remain.

Ahead of him, Ladybug slowed to a halt. Chat echoed her movement, stopped beside her. They stood atop a hill, looking down onto a modest settlement that Chat guessed must be Lorenvale. Given the lateness of the hour, Chat was mildly surprised to see how many lights glowed faintly below. Ladybug’s attention was not on the town itself. She stared intently at some strange form hovering a few hundred meters above. At first glance, Chat had thought it a low-hanging cloud, but he quickly realized that was wrong. It was too solid, too silvery bright in the moonlight, and it seemed to be constantly, subtly shifting. "Birds?" he asked aloud.

Ladybug gave Chat a look and opened her mouth to answer when the silence was rent by a deafening crash followed by screams. "Too late," she whispered. "Stay here," was her instruction to Chat. With one practiced movement, she unclasped her cloak and flipped it to reveal a vibrant red underside with large black spots. Chat caught a brief glimpse of leather armor also dyed red with spots before she refastened her cloak and raced off without another word, the fabric billowing out behind her.

For about three seconds, Chat considered following her instructions. Then there was another crash and one of the houses collapsed, revealing a huge creature of stone shambling down the main street of town.

Chat Noir ran.

* * *

From her new vantage point atop the roof, it took Ladybug only moments to size up the situation. The creature smashing its way through the small town seemed to be composed entirely of stone, with great hulking shoulders and glowing green eyes. Direct physical attacks probably would not prove very effective. More importantly, there was a villager was involved. A young woman, about Ladybug's own age, with her hair dyed a multitude of colors and twisted into dreadlocks was clutched tightly in one of the Akuma's hands, seemingly frozen with fear. Her safe release would have to be the first priority. Most of the other villagers had fled into the surrounding shops as the monster trampled through the town square.

A spear came flying in the Akuma's direction. Even as Ladybug watched, it hit the creature in the small of the back. The creature roared and swelled to an even greater size. Ladybug mentally revised her assessment of physical attacks to a very, very bad idea. She darted a glance at the direction that the spear had come from and saw three fresh-faced and terrified members of the King's Guard cowering together. At least there were only a few of them tonight. Small blessings.

Ladybug had seen enough. She stood and shouted "Get back!" as a warning to both the handful of onlookers and the soldiers. The Akuma turned to look at her and gave a howl of rage, but Ladybug had already leaped from the rooftop, tossing her yo-yo with one hand as she loosed her cloak with the other. She landed on his head, allowing the cloak to drop away into its face as she looped her yo-yo around his neck.  
The creature shrieked and raised the hand not holding the girl to beat the cloak away, leaving Ladybug free to half-swing, half-rappel down its body. Her eyes darted wildly, searching for the cursed object. Only stone. With grim resignation, she released the yo-yo and allowed herself to drop to the ground.

The Akuma managed to fling aside the cloak, and with it Ladybug's hopes to finish the fight before it could truly begin. She had no time to lament the waste of her cloak blinding gambit. The fist that had been tearing away the cloak was hurtling directly at her. Ladybug rolled out of the way just in time as the Akuma obliterated the cobblestones on which she had been standing. She threaded her way between its legs, giving herself a moment to regroup.

"LADYBUUUUUG!" the Akuma bellowed, lumbering around to face her. 'Too late,' Ladybug thought. It had already given her two important clues. First, while it had shaken off her cloak, the Akuma had refused to open its right hand. 'That's where the cursed object is. I'm sure of it.' Second, while it might have the advantage of size, she was faster.

As if to prove her point, the Akuma aimed another blow at her. Ladybug dodged easily, leaping up to a balcony, then lassoing her way to an adjacent rooftop. The monster reduced the balcony to splinters half a second later. Ladybug looked back and winced at the damage. If there was any chance of Lorenvale surviving this attack, she needed to lead the Akuma away from town immediately.

No sooner had she thought this than was her attention drawn by the thin, high sound of a child crying. She and the Akuma both rounded to look. A toddler, no more than three, had wandered out into the street and was staring up at the Akuma, wailing in fear.

Time seemed to slow. She saw the movement of the Akuma's fist telegraph itself through its whole body, and knew with cold certainty that she would be too late. She swung down anyway, reaching desperately for the little boy even as the scream tore unbidden from her throat. " _No!_ "

A streak of black crossed her vision. A fraction of a second later, the Akuma smashed down, sending rubble flying. Ladybug released her yo-yo, the momentum carrying her a few meters away from what would now be a crater. "No..." she repeated to herself, terrified of what she was about to witness. Instead, the dust cleared to reveal a figure dressed in black with a child tucked safely under his arm. A figure with catlike ears and huge green eyes. Chat Noir stood triumphantly in the middle of town square.

* * *

Looking back on it later, Chat was never quite sure what had come over him during that first fight. All he could say was that from the moment he dove in to grab that kid, something clicked into place. It had not been a conscious decision. As he stared down the monster, Chat Noir knew that he would gladly risk his life to help these strangers.

The toddler under his arm gave another terrified hiccup. ‘Right,’ Chat reminded himself. He had to get the child somewhere safe. He glanced around and spotted a woman being forcibly restrained by two men inside what appeared to be a local inn. "August!" she cried, reaching a desperate hand out for the boy.

Chat Noir and Ladybug shared a look. As if by unspoken agreement, they moved at precisely the same moment. Ladybug lassoed the monster’s free hand and yanked it backwards as Chat made a dash for the door. He burst into the inn and delivered August into the arms of his waiting, sobbing mother. The men that had been keeping her from running into the street after August stared at him openly, but August’s mother buried her face in her child’s hair and choked out "Thank you. Thank you…"

"Anytime," Chat found himself saying, even adding in a little salute. A muffled crash came from behind him. "Looks like that’s my cue. Stay safe inside, understand?" He turned and raced back into the action.

Ladybug was doing an admirable job of keeping away from the creature, leading him down a narrower street that would not allow him to swing as wildly. That said, the monster seemed to be showing no signs of tiring, and Chat worried that Ladybug could not keep this up forever. Chat cast about for a weapon and spotted a spear lying a few meters away. He dashed over and scooped it up. The tip was broken and barely hanging on, presumably where it had smashed against the monster. He snapped the useless head off, hefted what was now essentially a glorified stick, and decided that it would have to do. Chat cupped one hand around his mouth. "HEY! ROCKY!"

The rock-beast froze, then turned around slowly, as if shocked to be addressed this way. "Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?" Chat called. "Then again, I don’t suppose we could find that, so I guess you’ll have to settle for me." Chat knew that he was showing off, but he could not help himself. The adrenaline was going to his head.

The creature roared with rage and stomped over, lashing out again in the same futile attack. This time, Chat used his new staff to propel himself up, bounding off the fist meant to pummel him into a paste and scrabbling up onto the monster’s shoulder. He regained his footing and aimed a swing.

"Wait-!" Ladybug shouted, but too late. The blow connected with a dull thud. The monster proceeded to grow by several meters and swiveled his head to glare at Chat Noir with one huge, glowing eye.

"… Oh."

Chat Noir looked from his staff to the monster and back, and had time to think ‘I’m about to be swatted like a bug, aren’t I?’ before he was yanked sharply forward. Apparently at some point during his misguided attack, Ladybug had lassoed him around the middle, and she now pulled him down just in time. Chat Noir dropped the staff, blessing the cat instincts that allowed him to land heavily but safely on his feet.

With a flick of her wrist, Ladybug expertly unwound the yo-yo. "This way." She beckoned him with a finger to lead them down a smaller, unpaved road just wide enough for the creature to follow.

"So what’s the plan?" Chat Noir asked, casting an anxious look over his shoulder and the rock creature crashing after them.

"Get him out of town!" Ladybug instructed. "After that, I’m not sure yet. Any physical attack just makes him stronger."

"Could we trip it?" suggested Chat Noir.

"No. He could hurt the girl when he falls."

Chat Noir frowned over his shoulder as the monster swiped impatiently as an outcropping sign. "What about a hole? Could we drop it down a hole?"

"I… suppose?" the Ladybug said. "But we don’t have a giant hole."

"Leave that to me, milady," was Chat Noir’s only reply, skidding to a halt.

"What are you doing?" Ladybug demanded, but Chat Noir ignored her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. To his surprise, he felt no hint of fear about using his powers. He called the intention of his action up to the front of his mind, imagining the required depth and breadth of the pit he was about to create, and began to mutter the words under his breath. He felt rather than saw the lethal magic bubble up around one clawed hand, ready to be released. Just as the creature was upon him, he uttered the last word in the cantrip and slammed his hand down onto the ground beneath them.

Instantly, black cracks snaked out from where his hand met the dirt, suffusing the area around him and the monster in darkness. Then, the ground crumbled away. The monster gave a howl of confusion and fear as it toppled into the pit, slamming hard into the side and sinking down. It grew again, but did not get up.

Chat Noir fell with it, but he had been prepared. He leaped lightly from the side of the pit to the monster itself, allowing the monster to take the brunt of the shock of crumbling earth. Immediately, he scrambled over the monster’s arm to the girl, barely registering that he was moving on all fours like a cat. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I… I think so," squeaked the girl, nodding weakly and staring at him with eyes as big as saucers.

"Okay. Good. Try to get out. I’ll be back in a minute to help you." Chat scampered over to stand on the monster’s chest. Only the slightest sliver of green was visible in the creature’s craggy face. It was stunned, but if he did not do something, it would wake up and this would all begin again. Chat spotted Ladybug’s head poking up from the top of the pit and watching him with mixed curiosity and admiration. He waved, feeling an odd little swoop in his stomach to have her looking at him like that. "Don’t worry, Ladybug, I’ll take care of this." He was already exhausted from so much magic expenditure in one day, but Chat gathered what he could of his strength and started to speak the words he needed to end this. He raised his hand and took aim at the monster’s head, allowing the dark magic to build…

"Chat Noir, stop!" came Ladybug’s horrified voice.

"What?" Chat did not lower his hand, but swiveled around to stare at her in bewilderment. "But it’s…"

"You can’t kill him! That’s a person in there!"

"It’s what?!"

WHAM.

…

"It’s okay. I’ve got you." The grating noise of stone against stone.

…

"Hang onto me. We need to get him out of here, too."

"Is he dead?" a quavering voice asked.

"I don’t think so." But she sounded unsure. Someone peeled him off the dirt and slung him over their shoulder like he weighed nothing. The world spun dangerously at the sudden movement.

"Uuhhng…" Chat protested weakly.

"It’s okay," she said again, this time right beside his ear. Her voice was thick with relief. "You’re okay…"

…

The next thing that Chat knew, he was looking up at a wooden ceiling. He tried to sit up but was immediately assaulted by a bout of pain and nausea that threatened to turn his stomach inside out. He lay back at once, and the pain subsided to a dull, throbbing pressure. He closed his eyes again and tried to piece together how he had come to be here. The last thing he remembered was…

"Lady…bug…?"

He heard a rustle beside him. "I’m here." Chat cracked one eye open and saw as her masked face swam into view. "How are you feeling?"

Chat considered this for a moment. His thoughts seemed to be coming from a long way off. "Rock… solid…" was his eventual reply.

The concern evaporated from Ladybug’s expression and she snorted. "Well, you can’t be that off if you are making jokes. Can you move your… uh… your… claws…?"

Something about Ladybug’s discomfort in referring to his extremities struck Chat as extremely funny. Chat Noir chuckled and regretted it instantly as his head throbbed more insistently. He groaned and complied with Ladybug’s request, shuffling his hands and feet and even giving his tail an experimental flick.

"Good. I don’t think anything is broken."

"Jus’ my head," Chat agreed with a pained smile.

Ladybug hesitated for a moment, then said, "I can help with that. Lie still." She placed her hands on either side of his head, her thumbs resting gently on his brow.

"What…?" Chat began to ask but stopped as he felt the start of a familiar prickling. As it had the only other time that he had experienced healing power, the sensation only lasted for a few moments, then drained away slowly. So, too, did the pain.

Ladybug drew away as Chat Noir sat up and rubbed his head. "Thank you, Ladybug." Chat paused and added, "I didn’t know you were a Healer." Based on Alya’s description, Chat had expected a battle mage or elemental.  
Ladybug smiled at this, seeming almost a little bit shy. "I didn’t know you were a…" She gestured at him helplessly.

Chat Noir grimaced. "The official term is Cataclyst." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I don’t… really like to advertise it. Where are we, anyway?" He took in the straw covered floor and wooden paddock they were sitting in and had worked out the answer before she gave it.

"A stable. You were hurt and I needed to hide you somewhere. The boy who helped me said that this stall is clean," she added, as if that was something that Chat would be worrying about when she had just saved his life.

A muffled roar echoed through the streets, and Chat Noir felt his hair stand on end. "That thing’s still out there?"

"Yes," she answered with a touch of anxiety. "He’s still in the pit for now, but it won’t hold him forever."

"What is it, anyway?"

She cast him a puzzled look. "It’s called an Akuma. I’m sorry, I guess I should have told you. I just assumed everyone had heard about them by now." Mutely, Chat shook his head. "Well, someone out there has been cursing people and turning them into monsters," she explained. "I don’t know who. I don’t even know where the name ‘Akuma’ came from. All I can tell you is that they won’t stop unless you break the curse or…" Ladybug shuddered and fell silent.

Chat Noir’s ears perked up at the mention of cursed transformations. "How do we do that?" he questioned.

If his tone was a little bit too eager, Ladybug never noticed. "Each Akuma has a cursed object. If we break it, they return to normal. His must be in that hand he refuses to open."

Chat frowned. "How do we get it out, whatever it is?"

Ladybug chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Well, I know something we can try, but I’m not positive it will work. I’m still… getting a handle on things. Maybe we could…"

Her expression was still uncertain, even self-conscious. Chat remembered how she had relaxed when he had made that stupid joke. "It can’t get any worse, my lady. My plans so far have been paw-sitively dreadful." Chat gave her a stupid grin.

The comment had the desired effect. Ladybug rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay. Here it goes."

Ladybug started to murmur something under her breath. A glittering white light appeared before her, and the air surged with sudden magic. Chat’s eyes widened. ‘Not just a Healer. A Composer. She wields creation magic.’

(It would not be for a long time that Chat would consider the fact that his very first thought upon realizing this was ‘I wish that I could tell Marinette.’)

He had never seen creation magic firsthand. Curiosity burned inside of him, and he eagerly leaned closer to listen to what spell she was speaking. He did not think that this evening could have given him another shock. Chat discovered he was wrong.

The Ladybug was using no spell at all, but instead pouring her energy out into blind creation. "Please, be my lucky charm," she was whispering again and again. "Please, please… Be my lucky charm." Chat stared at her with undisguised awe. After a life of careful control since the age of ten, the notion that she was putting her faith entirely in her intention was mind-boggling.

From the light appeared a drawstring bag, seemingly as plain as anything. Abruptly, the glow vanished, and the bag dropped to the floor. Tentatively, Ladybug picked it up and opened it, frowned, then dipped her fingers inside.

"What is it?" Chat asked, unable to keep his excitement under wraps any longer.

Ladybug held up her hand in answer. Her fingers were coated in a fine powder that dyed them pitch black.

"How… How is that going to help us?" Chat asked, sitting back on his heels.

But Ladybug was paying him no attention, instead rubbing her fingers together and examining the black powder. "I need your help," she said abruptly. "It will be risky."

"Tell me what to do," he replied without a moment’s pause.

* * *

Humans are, by nature, a curious lot. While the people of Lorenvale had run to hide during the climax of the monster's rampage, now the beast was trapped. Little by little, the citizens of the town trickled from their homes to peer into the pit, watching at the stone creature raged and tried to claw its way out. Certainly, all of those people knew that this impasse could not last forever. But, as it has been noted, humans are a curious lot. Even when it means risking their lives.

Screams erupted from the crowd as the Akuma's craggy hand appeared over the edge of the pit. It was followed shortly by the rest of the monster, hauling its bulk up with a roar of exertion and triumph. The citizens of the town drew back, preparing to flee in all directions, but before anything could happen, a sharp-eyed citizen began to shout excitedly. "The Ladybug! The Ladybug!"

As one, monster and crowd turned to look upon the familiar figure clad in the red hood with black spots. It blazed bright in the lamplight, billowing out behind her as she ran... away. An anguished cry erupted from the crowd. How could their beloved hero abandon them?

The sentiment was clearly shared by the Akuma. "LADYBUUUUUUUUUUUUG!" With clumsy, thundering footsteps, the creature pursued.

While Ladybug may have been faster, the Akuma's legs were much longer. It took the monster less than a minute to close the gap between them. It caught up to her before she could disappear into the woods, aiming a mighty swing at her with the hand that had at one point held the young woman. The Ladybug dodged at the very last moment. The monster's fist sunk deep into the grassy hill and it gave a howl of frustration.

Instantly, the Ladybug rounded on her enemy and took a great, flying leap at it. It was over in an instant. The monster snatched the young enchantress from the air with its free hand. "LADYBUUUUUUG!" it roared again, this time in victory.

The enchantress looked up at the figure about to squeeze the life out of her, and as she did, the hood fell back from her head. Shaggy golden hair, glossy black ears, and a wide grin met the monster's gaze.  
"Gotcha," said Chat Noir.

Something thudded against the Akuma's back, and it turned its head to look. The last thing it processed was seeing the Ladybug - the real Ladybug - standing on its shoulder. Every visible inch of her, from her once-red armor to her face and even her boots, was smeared with an inky black powder. While her smile was more subdued than the cat-creature, it was no less triumphant as she wound up with Chat Noir's makeshift staff and swung at its head.

* * *

Ladybug rained blows down on the Akuma. It bellowed and tried to swat her away, but to no avail, and with each strike, the monster grew. It was bigger than a barn, bigger than the tallest tree... Big enough for Chat Noir to escape.

He wriggled free of the monster's grasp, and felt rather than saw the cursed object that had been digging into his side come away with him. Chat landed on the soft earth and looked around wildly. Even in the dim light of the moon and the distant lanterns of the village, his night vision allowed him to spot it instantly. He picked it up - a tiny box that fit easily in the palm of his hand - and held it up over his head. "I've got it!" he called to Ladybug. "What do I do?"

"Break it!" was her curt reply.

"Now that, I can do," Chat murmured to himself. With just the barest touch of magical power, Chat crushed the box in his fist.

The monster gave an earth-shattering howl. Chat whirled around to face it, reflexively opening his hand, and noticing too late as something small and dark escaped from his grasp. Ladybug leaped from her spot atop the monster's shoulder and, impossibly, caught it. An instant later, the monster dissolved into nothing.

"Wha...?" Chat shook away his shock. "Ladybug!" he called, racing over to her.

Ladybug greeted him with a smile and opened her hands. A pure white butterfly emerged. Even as Chat Noir watched, it fluttered up to join what he now realized were hundreds or even thousands of butterflies hovering over the city. The cloud of butterflies shuddered, then scattered in all directions.

"Ivan!" Several of the villagers had come straggled out of the town. The girl from earlier with the multicolored hair threw herself a crumpled form on the ground – a form that Chat realized with a shock was a young man. He cast a look at Ladybug, a silent question in his eyes. She nodded in answer and drifted over to tend to the girl and the young man that had been a monster.

“S-stop there!” came a reedy voice. The three members of the King’s Guard were approaching the Ladybug. Two of them still had their spears and pointed them in her direction, while the last lingered behind the group. The young enchantress had been saying something to the girl, rubbing her back soothingly. Now she stood up slowly to face them, her hand drifting toward her yo-yo.

The guard on the right licked his lips and began in a reedy tone. “B-by order of K-King Gabriel Agreste, w-we are placing you under arrest. You must…”

Chat stopped listening, noticing how their eyes kept flicking to him as they spoke. He frowned slightly, confused. The young man without a spear saw this and paled. ‘Oh,’ Chat thought, the truth dawning on him. His gaze fell on the spears closing in on Ladybug and made his mind up in an instant.

Chat drew himself up to his full height and interrupted the soldier. “Leave,” he said in the most menacing voice that he could muster.

The man broke off, staring at Chat with what could only be described as undisguised terror. The boy (for someone that young could surely not be called a man – had his father always recruited so young?) beside him piped up nervously. “But we have a…”

Chat narrowed his eyes and drew his lips back to bare his fang-like teeth. The boy fell silent. “I said leave,” Chat snarled, taking just one step in their direction. “Now.”

Their nerve broke. Abandoning their “prisoner”, the men turned tail and fled toward Papillon. Chat held the threatening pose until they were out of sight, then allowed a snicker to escape. He caught Ladybug’s eye and seeing that she was biting back a smile undid him completely. He collapsed into helpless laughter. “Oh man,” he wheezed, sides still heaving with mirth. “I can’t believe that worked.”

* * *

Chat Noir’s stunt scaring off the King’s Guard allowed Ladybug to do something that she very rarely had the chance to do: clean up the town. Creating and maintaining objects from nothing was still very challenging for Ladybug. The black powder and the bag that contained it had already evaporated into nothing by the time she was finished. However, simply repairing the broken pieces was no trouble at all. In less than an hour, she had put most of the town back together, and even healed a few minor injuries.

Chat Noir stood off to the side all the while, watching and helping where he could. Most of the townspeople still avoided him, but the little boy that he had rescued and his mother came up to him and thanked him. Ladybug could not help but smile as Chat blushed to the roots of his hair when the woman gave him a hug. He even let the boy tug on his tail.

When at last the major damage to the village had been mended, an exhausted Ladybug turned her attention to the last repair of the night. With Chat Noir on her heels, she returned to the site of their final skirmish with the Akuma. She searched blindly in the grass until Chat caught on to what she was looking for and directed her to the pieces of the box. She gathered up as many as she could find, then murmured one of the only spells that she used often enough to memorize. The box reassembled itself at sat neatly in the palm of her hand. In spite of herself, she opened it, telling herself to check that the contents had made it safely. A ring, simple but well crafted, glinted in the moonlight.

“Is that a wedding ring?” Chat asked, voicing the question at the same moment that it occurred to her.

Ladybug turned to him and shook her head sadly – not in disagreement, but in negation of the question – before going to find a messenger to return the ring box to Ivan. They had no right to ask. Akuma, she explained to him later once they were back in the safety of the forest, were born of pain. When the butterflies came, they would choose someone that was angry, sad, or frightened, and use that emotion to turn them into a monster. What she did not tell him was that she had already suspected the reason behind this particular Akuma. And, based on the way that their hands sparked bright blue when they touched one another, Ladybug was almost certain she knew why the girl – Mylène – had turned Ivan down.

“I see,” Chat Noir said after taking a moment to process this information. They were making their way back toward Papillon, no longer running but winding their way briskly through the trees. “So… what do we do?”

“Keep fighting them off when they appear and protect the citizens of our kingdom. Figure out who is sending them and stop them. I can’t keep doing this forever.” She added the last sentence more to herself than to him.

“I could help you,” Chat said at once. Ladybug slowed to a stop so that they could talk properly, but upon doing so, she found she did not know what to say. She simply looked at the part-man, part-beast that had sprung to her aid without a second thought and was now offering to become a wanted criminal to help with her mission.

Chat seemed to take her silence as disinterest. “Really, I could,” he gushed, his tail telegraphing his agitation as it lashed behind him. “I know how to fight. And I can teach you about magic.”

Ladybug’s pulse quickened with excitement. Since she had started practicing magic, everything she had learned was self-taught. She could not imagine what she might learn from another practicing magic user. But still, the timing of his appearance was so suspect. “Chat…” she began.

“My lady.” Chat dropped to one knee and took her hand in his, like a knight swearing fealty or a man proposing. “Please. Let me be your sword and shield.”

Ladybug gazed at the strange creature before her and thought back on the events of the night. Emotion swelled up inside of her, and she realized how badly she wanted to trust him. ‘A partner,’ whispered that little part of her that had urged her to let him tag along earlier. ‘A friend. Not alone anymore.’ Slowly, hesitantly, the Ladybug nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

Chat Noir beamed and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. Her apprehension gave way to a mix of annoyance and amusement, and she tugged her hand away. “Stop that, alley cat,” she chided, not entirely unkindly.

Chat seemed to be ready to say something teasing in reply, but a strange shadow passed over his face. “I… have to go,” he said, getting to his feet and looking mournful.

Her curiosity was piqued, but she did not ask. Instead, she cast a glance at the horizon and noted unhappily that the colors predicted the oncoming dawn. “I must go as well.” She paused, then added, “Shall we meet again where I first met you? Let’s say…” Not tomorrow, if she was that exhausted then her parents would start to wonder if she was ill. “… in two days time?”

Chat dipped his head in agreement. “My lady,” he said once again, then disappeared into the tangle of trees.

* * *

The sun had crept above the horizon by the time the small black cat found his way home to the bakery. Adrien’s heart leapt as he realized that Marinette’s window was open. In the few days that he had spent in the bakery, he had not seen Marinette open the window once. He hoped it was a sign that he would be welcome.

Carefully, Adrien ascended, scaling the water drainage pipe and walking along the roof to reach Marinette’s window. Marinette was curled up on her bed, deeply asleep. Adrien dropped to the floor quietly so as not to disturb her and deposited his precious cargo – the golden bell that she had given him that was no longer just a sentiment, but a necessity. Then, he leaped lightly onto the bed and snuggled against her. He had learned a great many things tonight, Adrien thought as he began to drowsily purr. Mentally, he reviewed the three most important.

First, while he could reduce the effects of the curse, Adrien could not lift it entirely on his own, and a great expenditure of magical energy would eventually revert him to a cat again. He had barely managed to put the spell on the bell in place before transforming back. Fortunately, now that the golden bell was enchanted, future transformations should not be as destructive as the first. The spell would guide his magic, even if his words could not.

Second, Alya was correct. Ladybug was, without a doubt, a heroine, and Adrien believed with all of his heart that she had not been the one to place him under this curse.

Which was just as well, since the third revelation was that he was almost positive that he was in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: a bunch of exposition for how magic in this world works. I am going to Paris for real (!!!) on Saturday. Cross your fingers that it inspires me to write!
> 
> Find me on tumblr under this username - vulpesorion!


	5. Interlude I - Magic Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien explains how magic works in this world.

When Marinette returned home the night she that first met Chat Noir, it was to an empty room. Somewhere in her exhaustion-hazed brain she registered that she had not seen the cat for several hours. Despite her fatigue, Marinette scoured the bakery and even snuck a glance into Maman and Papa's room. At last, she sat down on the bed and admitted to herself what she had suspected from the outset. Marinette had left her window open when she had sneaked out to Lorenvale, and the cat had gotten out. It was as simple as that.

Marinette was heartbroken. She had only had Félix for a few days, but she had never had a pet of her own before, and she had grown extremely attached. And this was all her fault... Miserable, Marinette crawled into bed and allowed exhaustion to overtake her. She left the window open in the vain hope that Félix would make his way back to her.

She woke to the tickle of whiskers against her cheek and gave a little yelp of surprise. "You're back!" Félix opened one eye, yawned hugely, then crawled under her blanket to resume sleeping, nestling against her stomach. Beaming, Marinette reached down and gave his soft black fur a stroke. She felt the familiar thrum of Félix's purr. "Welcome home!"

* * *

The day following his return, Adrien spent most of his time laying around and catching up on sleep from a thoroughly exhausting adventure. Fortunately, the bakery had no shortage of warm nooks to curl up in and doze. He nurtured a particular fondness for napping on the windowsill in the sunlight.

By the evening, however, Adrien was panicking. He wanted to go back in time and kick his past self for ever suggesting that he give Ladybug magic lessons. Despite a formal education in magical theory for as long as he could remember, every time that he tried to think of how best to impart this knowledge to Ladybug - THE Ladybug! - all of that learning seemed to fly out of his head. What on earth could he teach her that she would not already know? Besides, as far as he could remember, he had mostly been forced to memorize important magical events and various magical theories that would be more or less useless outside of meeting with foreign diplomats without causing international incidents and making decisions for the future of the nation. Ladybug needed practical magic to use in a battle situation. She had no use for diplomatic details of magical history.

("Unless she was queen, of course," said a mad little voice in the back of Adrien's mind. He quashed it, ignoring the pleasant shiver that went through him at the very thought of making that fierce, wonderful woman his bride. Rational people don’t marry people they’ve only met once.)

For an extremely brief moment, Adrien seriously considered borrowing Marinette's book and taking it to Ladybug. The next moment, shame nearly ate him alive. He owed Marinette his life. Should any harm come to the book, Marinette would lose her only magical resource. Besides, the book might somehow identify Marinette. He did not doubt that his Lady would never report a fellow magic user, but Adrien could not risk Marinette's secret. It was not his to share.

Instead, Adrien turned his thoughts to the only tutor that had ever taught him something other than boring dates. He tried to remember everything that he had ever learned from his best and favorite teacher to use as a guide.

* * *

_Adrien's feet dragged with reluctance as he approached the door to the training room. Behind it would be newest stuffed shirt that P_ _è_ _re - or more likely, Nathalie on his father's behalf - had selected to be his magic tutor. The previous one had lasted less than a month, a new record. Not that Adrien blamed her. She had asked him to give a practical demonstration without preparation and the results had been.... explosive, to say the least. The north drawing room was now under reconstruction, and Adrien was willing to bet that P_ _è_ _re had given strict orders for his magic never to be put to practical use ever, ever again._

_The first thing that Adrien noticed was that all the furniture in the room had been pushed back against the walls to make room for a low, weathered table in the middle of the room. The second thing was the wizened old man who sat at the floor in front of it. Adrien was not entirely certain what he had been expecting when he walked into the training room, but he could definitely say that the stranger did not fit the image.  The man looked up at him and smiled warmly, beckoning Adrien to join him at the table._

_Confused but ever polite, Adrien wandered over and sat down on the floor across from him, mimicking the man's pose. The stranger leaned over to pour Adrien a cup of tea. "Uh, thank you," Adrien said as he accepted the cup and saucer._

_The man said nothing in return. He merely poured himself some tea as well and cupped his knobbly hands around it. "I understand that you are to be my new magic instructor?" ventured Adrien after a few moments of silence. This garnered no response whatsoever. Minutes ticked by and their tea stopped steaming. The old man who was (presumably) Adrien's teacher took a long, slow draught from the cup, then looked expectantly at Adrien. Adrien obligingly raised the cup to his lips and took a drink. The tea had an acrid flavor and it took all of Adrien's diplomatic training to stop himself choking on it as he hastily set the cup back down._

_The old man chuckled lightly. "It's a bit of an acquired taste, I suppose," he said, focusing his attention fully on Adrien at last. "My name is Wang Fu. You may call me Master Fu. It is a pleasure to be teaching you, Adrien." It was the first time in years that someone had addressed him would a title... Perhaps even the first time since Mère's passing. P _è_ _re_ talked to him seldomly these days. Master Fu could be thrown in the stocks for addressing the crown prince with such familiarity._

_Adrien thought he might just burst with happiness._

_Master Fu took another gulp of the (horrible) tea. "Are you ready to begin?" he asked his pupil. Adrien nodded, hopeful in spite of himself. "Very well. Please tell me the first law of magic."_

* * *

The Ladybug gave Chat Noir a stricken look. Chat watched her expectantly, his legs dangling over the felled tree trunk that he had chosen as his perch. Ladybug sat a few paces off on a mossy boulder, looking up at him. The whole thing was very reminiscent of schooling from when she was a girl. Still, when he had proposed lessons, she had not realized there would be a test involved! She wracked her brain for everything she had ever read or heard about magical theory. Fortunately, this "first law" was common knowledge. "Being around magic makes magic grow stronger?" 

Chat Noir beamed. Ladybug felt a prickle of mixed pride and annoyance. He really had expected her to know nothing at all. "Correct!" he proclaimed. "The way I learned it is perhaps a little more concise - 'Magic begets magic.' Do you know what it means?"

"Yes." Ladybug dipped her head, now feeling that she had something to prove. "Basically, that being around other magical people will make a user's magic stronger."

"Precisely. Which is why royalty tend to stick to other strongly magical families. It increases their powers, which would increase their ability to do good for their people."

'And,' Ladybug added to herself, 'why those not of noble blood avoid other magic users like the plague.' Strengthened magic would mean an increased chance of accidental magical outbursts, and in turn an instant penalty of death... unless those around you would turn a blind eye. Ladybug did not, however, voice this thought to Chat Noir. Judging by the way that he spoke of "royals", she strongly suspected that he had a high opinion of the nobility in this country. Actually, her working theory was that he was some duke's son in a ridiculous disguise blowing off steam by playing renegade with the famous Ladybug. She quite abruptly realized that he had been talking and she had not been paying attention. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked you to tell me the second law of magic," Chat repeated patiently.

Ladybug opened her mouth then shut it again. Her first thought was 'there's a second law?!' but she did not want to voice this aloud. "Uh," she squeaked instead, flushing darkly, then looked down in shame.

Chat Noir sat up a little straighter. "Oh, no no no," he said quickly, holding up his clawed hands and all traces of formality evaporating from his tone. "Don't feel bad! I mean come to think of it, there's no good reason that you should know it, and I mean you probably do know it you just don't know the official version... I'm just teaching you the way that I learned..." He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this..."

Ladybug blinked at him, then she began to smile. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps he was just as nervous about this as she was. "Shall we start over?" she suggested.

Chat buried his face in his hands and made a noise between groaning and laughing. "Yes. Please." He took a deep breath and faced her again, getting off the log to pace closer to her. He picked up a long, thin stick and indicated the rock that she was sitting on. "May I?" Ladybug scooted over obligingly. Chat settled himself beside her.

"So, the second law, as I learned it, is that magic is inherent. You probably already know this, but magic cannot be acquired by someone who does not have a natural knack for it. They could use previously enchanted objects if they so choose, but they could never generate new magic of their own."

Ladybug gave a single, short nod of understanding. He was right - she did already know this, though she had never had it laid out in such terms before. Then again, she had had no formal discussion of magic.

"But the second law also has another meaning," continued Chat Noir. "Each magic user will have a certain type of magic that they are more drawn to more than any other. This is the type of magic that they can cast with the least effort, and what they would revert to instinctively in times of stress."

Chat Noir used his stick to draw a straight vertical line in the soft dirt beneath their feet. "Broadly speaking, magic can be divided into two categories. They could be called positive and negative, creative and destructive... whatever your preferred term for them is." He gave a little shrug. "But before we get into that, let's talk about the magic that pretty much anyone can do."

He tapped the space beneath the line. "Summoning and scrying can be done by most magic individuals. There aren't really people out there who specialize in those." He drew two quick circles to illustrate his words. "Also, elemental magic. Fire, water, air, earth... you get the idea." He sketched a rough flame, a water droplet, a little swirl, and... a cube. Ladybug suppressed a snort. Drawing was clearly not Chat's forte. "Elemental magicians do exist, but you and I could use this type of magic just fine. There are theoretical magicians who have been trying to prove for years that those with inclinations toward constructive magic have an affinity with water and scrying, and destructive with fire and summoning, but if this difference exists, it's negligible." He turned to her, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side. "Do you have any experience with these?"

"I've... tried my hand at summoning," Ladybug answered evasively. "I am still working on perfecting it."

"Beyond that, magical abilities start to fall into the two separate categories. They are opposites, in a way. First we have defensive and offensive battle magic." Chat Noir wrote each word on either side of the line. "Defensive magic users are generally good at creating barriers. Offensive create projectiles with which to attack their enemies." He paused, and then added, "People tend to underestimate magicians whose natural power is inclined toward battle. They think because it's lowest in an arbitrary hierarchy that those users are weak. What they don't understand is that..."

* * *

"...  _those with fewer tools have no choice but to learn how to use them well."_

_Adrien tried his utmost to keep the skepticism off of his face. Whatever Master Fu might say, having a mere Guardian as his new tutor seemed to be asking for trouble.  Especially after what had happened last time._

_"I can see that you're not entirely convinced." Master Fu gave an amused little smile. "All right. Attack me, young man."_

_Adrien blanched. "What?! N-no, I can't do that, I..."_

_Master Fu's face grew grave, though a hint good humor still sparkled in his eyes. "Am I your magic tutor or am I not?"_

_"You are, but..."_

_"I am telling you to attack me. Do as I say."  While he did not say it aloud, Master Fu's tone implored Adrien. 'Trust me.'_

_Though his pulse quickened with anxiety, Adrien muttered a halfhearted cantrip under his breath, summoning a small orb of destructive magic. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed this orb toward his tutor, already cringing in anticipation._

_The bubbling ball of black magic dissolved to nothing. Adrien blinked. He tried again, this time packing more power into his attempt. Once again, he was thwarted. He murmured the words that summoned his most powerful destructive abilities, letting the magic dance around his hand as he swung it toward his teacher. His hand collided with an invisible barrier and all trace of destructive magic vanished. "Ow?" Adrien cradled his stinging hand, grinning like an idiot._

_Master Fu gave him a knowing look in return. "As you can see, when we are practicing, you need have no fear that you shall hurt me by mistake. Your ideal match would be your magical equal, of course, but pure Composers are in short supply, so I am afraid that you will have to settle for me. Let that be a lesson to you on underestimating your opponent. And not to mention," he added with a wink, "the importance of having a previously enchanted object on your person for a boost in case your reckless student decides to attack an old man at full force." He tapped his jade bracelet. Adrien blushed scarlet._

* * *

"Battle magic. So that's what it's called," Ladybug said absently. "Is it true that King Gabriel hunts down magicians like that and threatens their families if do not they swear their allegiance and join his army?"

Chat Noir’s eyes widened and an expression of horror crawled across his features. "I... don't know," he answered slowly. "I don't think so. I've certainly never heard anything like that." He stared at the trees without seeing, lost in thought. "I don't know," he repeated at last. "I'll find out when… when I can. I promise. And if it is happening, I swear I'll do everything in my power put a stop to it."

'What a strange promise to make,' Ladybug thought to herself. But his tone rang with utter sincerity. Ladybug warmed at this, and she bumped her shoulder gently against his gratefully. 

Chat drew a sharp breath, then cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Er, so next would be... illusions and emotions." He wrote illusions above defensive magic and emotions above offensive.

Ladybug made a little noise of skepticism. "Illusions are the opposite of emotions?" she asked with a snicker.

Shaking off the last of his shock, Chat gave Ladybug a look of exaggerated offense. "Are you  _purr_ haps doubting me, my Lady?" He put his hand over his chest as though physically wounded. "You think so little of my  _meow_ -valous memory?"

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “No, I'm doubting whoever proposed that dichotomy. The two have nothing to do with each other."

It was Chat's turn to laugh. "I understand. The argument for it is as such - both emotional manipulation and illusion casting have to do with deception. The difference is that one is physical deception, while the other is mental. They are also both temporary. Without an external conduit to attach it to, both illusions and emotion magic will fade with time."

Ladybug considered this, then hummed in acknowledgement. "I suppose that makes sense. I still think the logic is a bit shaky, though. What's the argument for one being creative versus destructive, though?"

"Oh gods, if you didn't like the first argument, you're not going to like this one either. Well, basically, they say that illusions are pure creation of things that are not there, whereas emotions are destroying previously held emotions."

"What if an emotion magician made you feel something about a stranger?" Ladybug pointed out. "Wouldn't that be creating something from nothing?"

Chat hooted with laughter. "What can I say, my Lady? You broke magic."

* * *

Everything was going so much better than he had hoped. Ladybug was listening attentively and asking astute questions, and any concern that Chat might have had about her not picking magical theory up had evaporated.

He was also quickly realizing that he was a goner. In the two days before seeing Ladybug again, he had done his best to convince himself that his feelings for her were the result of adrenaline at their battle together and the joy of being semi-human again. Now that he was face-to-face with the gorgeous heroine, he could not deny that he was utterly infatuated. Every time she smiled his stomach gave a little flutter, and her laugh made his heart want to beat out of his chest. Not to mention that she was just so easy to talk to... He had never felt as comfortable around someone as he did with her.

"Is that all?" she was asking now, indicating his crude diagram with a frown. "It seems like that couldn't possibly cover everything."

"Right you are, milady," Chat agreed, scrawling the next two words on the list. Healing and Plague. 

Ladybug frowned. "Why would somebody want to be able to cast plague spells?" she asked.

"It's uncommon," Chat assured her. "Even those who can don't tend to utilize plague spells. At least, not intentionally."

"Okay, but that means... there are people out there whose natural magical inclination would be to make people ill." Ladybug said the words slowly as she processed this information.

Chat closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes," he agreed. "There are. But... this was not something that they chose. It is only something that they can seek to master and control." 'This isn't something I chose,' he wanted to say. 

Fortunately, Ladybug seemed to sense his unspoken words. She raised one hand, hesitated, and then placed it gently on his shoulder. "I understand. It can't be an easy burden to bear. It must take a strong person with a very good heart to withstand it."

Warmth spread through his whole body from the place that she touched, and Chat had to fight the urge to wrap her in a tight hug... or kiss her... or give into the feline instinct to nuzzle into her until she smelled like his and he smelled like hers... Gods, what was this girl doing to him? He blinked slowly at her before speaking again.

"The person that taught me most about magic once told me that there needs to be balance in all things. There cannot be healing without plague..."

* * *

"...  _And no creation without destruction. Your powers are nothing to be ashamed of, Adrien."_

_Adrien knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to smile and hold his tongue and be the good, obedient prince that he had always been. Never question his tutors. Never step out of line. But today, he just could not find it in himself to suppress his emotions any longer._

_"That's easy for you to say!" he burst out. "Worst case scenario for you, you end up blocking something you don't mean to. If I don't pay attention all the time, I could slip up and I could hurt someone. I could kill someone!"_

_Master Fu considered his pupil with an even stare. "If I were to utilize my power to stop a mother from rescuing their child from danger, would that be using my powers for evil?"_

_"Well, but you wouldn't -"_

_"Would that be using my powers for evil?" repeated Master Fu._

_Adrien heaved a great sigh. He knew what the old man was trying to do. "Yes, Master Fu."_

_"And if you used your powers to cull a sick ox so that it would not infect the rest of the herd, would that be evil?"_

_Adrien bit back a snarky reply about when a prince was ever going to interact with a sick ox. "No, Master Fu."_

_"If a plague of locusts infested Papillon's crops? Would it be wrong to get rid of them?"_

_"No, Master Fu," Adrien answered again, this time with slightly more interest._

_"What about if a man was dying and in pain and wanted nothing more than to have his suffering come to an end?"_

_Adrien blinked, his mouth working soundlessly. "I... I don't know," he admitted at last._

_"Precisely. No power is inherently good or bad, Adrien. Life is rarely so clear cut. Any individual, magic or no, has it in their hearts to do good or evil. It is what we choose to do with the tools that we have been given that dictate who we are. Who knows? There may yet come a day when you are grateful that your magical inclination is toward destruction."_

* * *

Ladybug did not say anything immediately to this pronouncement. She made a thoughtful noise, then glanced up at the waning moon. Chat followed her gaze and grimaced. It was getting late. He needed to move more quickly.

"We are nearly finished," he assured. "There is transformative magic and mind-controlling magic. Transformative is considered creative, mind-control destructive." Ladybug opened her mouth. "They're opposing because one affects the physical and one affects the mental," Chat said quickly, predicting her next question. Ladybug closed her mouth again and grumbled slightly. "Mind-control magic differs from emotion magic in that those under emotion magic's sway still have free will, albeit altered by what they are feeling. Those who have been mesmerized are entirely under the Mesmer's sway." A lump rose in his throat. He swallowed hard and added, "My mother was a Mesmer." Chat's night vision allowed him to see the realization and sympathy flicker across Ladybug's face, but she did not comment on his use of the past tense when talking about Mère. For this, he was grateful. 

"Last but not least, you have people like you. We call them Composers, and they wield pure creation magic." Chat wrote the word "Creation" at the top of the list. "And people like me. Cataclysts." He reluctantly added "Destruction" to the opposite side of the list. "I don't believe that I need to tell _you_ what we're capable of.

"From a practical standpoint, the higher up on the scale that you are, the harder it is for one to do magic from the opposite ends of the spectrum. You have a very strong affinity for creative magic. If you wanted to use attack battle magic, you'd probably be able to summon some very weak projectiles. And me, I can't transform something to save my life." His smile was slightly strained this time, hoping and praying that she would understand the hint he had just given her. "It also means you are particularly vulnerable to destructive magic, and I to constructive. On the other hand, if you know what you're doing, you are also most easily counteract destructive magic. And without a great deal of study, you should be able to utilize all of these -" he drew another line swiftly down the left side of the list, beside all the magics listed as creative "- to your benefit."

"But... don't I do some of this already?" Ladybug asked with a frown. "I didn't know about transformation and mesmers, but purifying the butterfly it just... I don't know how to describe it. It's like the first time I saw one, I just knew what I was supposed to do."

"That's where we enter the spectrum of the third and final law of magic. 'Magic comes from the soul'. Like the second law, this also has duel meanings. First, magic follows your intentions." Chat felt like such a hypocrite talking about this, because he never put it into practice. With the notable exception of Master Fu, Adrien had always been taught the need to control and never rely on intention alone, lest someone get hurt. He did his best to channel the kind of question that Master Fu would have posed. "What were you feeling when you captured your first butterfly?"

Ladybug's brow furrowed in concentration. "I... I guess I just wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted to help the Akumatized person, I wanted to save them..."

'Save them?' Chat wondered silently, but did not want to sidetrack the conversation. "Well, when you caught the butterfly, you tried to break the spell on it, correct?" Ladybug nodded. "What you actually did was release unfiltered creation magic and your intention guided it. It's like what you do when you're calling your... What was it you said? Your Lucky Charm."

Ladybug went slightly pink at this. "I didn't think you heard that..." she mumbled.

"No, I think it's a good name!" Chat said encouragingly. "It gives you something to focus your intention on. You need a tool to help with your situation, and your magic obliges. But using magical power without guiding it is very tiring."

In fact, she had done it twice in one night and then put the town back together to boot. Chat was certain that Ladybug was at least as powerful than he was, if not more so. During his time at home, Adrien had never before met anyone whose magical potential matched his own. It was a point of great pride for his father, and Père often paraded him around at social gatherings as a show of Papillon's strength. The attention had only increased after it became clear where Adrien's natural magical talent lay. Adrien hated every minute. He felt like a walking threat. "Cooperate or else my son could kill you."

Needless to say, the notion of a more powerful magician made him downright giddy.

"Ugh, yes." Ladybug shook her pigtailed head. "I want to sleep for a month afterwards."

"When you send out this huge magical burst, only a fraction of that is actually doing something. The rest dissipates and is lost. Your intention is what guides it toward your end goal, but if it's not your natural inclination, it will take more energy to reach the point of something happening. Think of it like..." Chat cast his mind around for a good analogy. "Think of it like water," was the best he could come up with. "You only want to fill a cup, and you're producing a huge wave. It would be so much easier if you could just fill the cup with a pitcher, you know?"

Ladybug stared at him for a moment, then giggled helplessly. "That's a terrible comparison."

Chat scoffed. "Excuse me? That comparison was _claw_ -some."

Ladybug groaned and buried her head in her hands as Chat grinned. "Noooo," she moaned. "No more puns."

"Never! I live for puns!" Chat cackled, then suddenly smiled slyly. "Well, I guess I could stop... with a little _purr_ suasion. How about a kiss, my Lady?" His tone was light, but Chat's heart was racing. "I swear I'll never pun again. Cat's honor."

Ladybug's eyes went wide, and then she assumed a flat, unimpressed look. "Not even in your dreams, alley cat."

"Oh, I think you'll find you're wrong there." Chat waggled his eyebrows mischievously. And, as a matter of fact, he was telling the truth. He had dreamed of her again the previous night, though they had spent more time in the dream talking than kissing.

She gave him a shove that nearly made him slide off the rock and got to her feet. "Don't push your luck, kitty," she said, though her voice was colored with amusement.

Chat had to actively avoid putting one clawed foot in the now-abandoned diagram he had been using. He abruptly remembered what he had been about to say, and his laughter died at once. "Ladybug," he said, turning to look at her seriously. "Listen to me. There's one more thing we have to talk about."

Ladybug's expression grew sober. "I'm listening."

"The second part of the third law. You need to be careful about how much energy you expend. It may seem like magic is inexhaustible, but it isn't. The strength is drawn from you. If you don't monitor your own energy levels, you could use too much... People have died." His eyes searched her face to be certain that she was taking in the full gravity of his words.

Her lips tightened into a thin line. "I know, Chat. And I... I started this with the full knowledge that being the Ladybug could mean my death, one way or another." Chat felt all the breath leave his lungs. "But!" Ladybug added, seeing his panicked expression. "I don't _want_ to die! I mean, I don't have a death wish. And I do want to get better at magic. So... we'll work on it. Together. Right?" She held out a hand for him to shake.

"Y-Yeah." Chat gave her the best smile he could muster after that frightening pronouncement. He slid his furry hand into hers. "Together."

* * *

And so, time passed for a while.

During the day, Marinette would work at the bakery. Félix had yet to catch a mouse and became something of a family joke. Had he been able to defend himself, the cat would surely have protested it was because there were no mice to catch. But the customers adored him, as did the family, even if Sabine was hesitant to admit it. Marinette started to leave her window open when it became apparent that her tomcat wanted the freedom to roam the neighborhood. He always came back and would greet her with an affectionate little head bunt - no matter the time of night!

Given the ever-growing number of mysteries in Marinette's life, she had little time to spare for pondering Félix's bell. Still, every time it was brought to her attention, she puzzled over the little oddity for a few moments - and it came to her attention a fair amount. Every day, without fail, Marinette would tie the bell back on, and every day Félix would deposit it on her lap. She might have assumed that Félix hated it, but if she set the bell aside, the cat would meow and follow her around with it until she consented to retie it around his neck. Perhaps he thought it was a game. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with the ribbon around his neck. Whatever the reason, it was only after some trial and error that Marinette discovered the solution was to tie it loosely around his neck so that it hung down against his chest. Félix even seemed to guide this discovery, purring to varying degrees as she shortened and lengthened the cord. When at last it had been tied to his satisfaction, Félix galivanted happily off. "You're a very odd cat," Marinette commented that night, stroking his back. Félix nuzzled into her hand. The bell game never resumed.

In the evenings, Marinette worked on her sewing projects and continued her self-guided magical education, often with Félix at her side. It was not going well. Fancy duke's son education be damned, Marinette was almost certain that Chat had no idea what he was talking about when it came to summoning. Either that or she was a miserable failure at what he evidently considered the most basic of magical spells. Every evening, she would carefully sketch out the symbols of the summoning circle. Every evening she would double and triple check the book to be certain that every sigil was correct. And every evening, she would carefully write the name of the man that she sought to clear her name - Adrien Agreste.

And nothing ever happened.

Well, once she had managed to summon Félix from downstairs. It was a particularly cold night and he had opted to doze in front of the dying embers of the oven instead of assuming his usual post at her side. Truth be told, Marinette had been a little bit relieved. Félix was good company, but he had a knack for being overly curious whenever she was practicing magic and getting constantly underfoot. That night her cat's yowl of surprise and frantic scramble under the bed with all his hair on end had almost made the disappointment worth it - almost.

Scrying was no better. The bowl of water that sat on her desk was next to useless. Scrying Maman or Papa or Alya to test her skills always went smoothly, but the moment that she turned her attention to Adrien, the water would go pitch dark. Maybe scrying only worked if you personally knew the individual. Or else... maybe Adrien Agreste was dead. The thought came unbidden to her mind on occasion, and each time her heart constricted in her chest. If that was the case, Ladybug would never be able to clear her name. The bounty would go up and up and eventually her luck would run out and someone would capture her and everyone that she loved would be in danger and...

When her thoughts entered this dangerous spiral, Marinette's usual solution was fur-therapy. She would pick up Félix and hug him tightly, burying her face in his silky coat. If this bothered him, he never showed it. The black cat would purr in her ear and knead her chest until Marinette had regained her presence of mind. She just had to keep trying...

Chat did everything he could to help her. Every time she mentioned Adrien, he got a strange look on his face. Ladybug could only assume her partner was jealous. In truth, Ladybug had never met the crown prince. She did not bother to correct him. Let Chat assume what he wanted. It was easier than explaining that she was in love with someone that she could not remember but could only sense his absence in her memory. At the very least, Ladybug appreciated that Chat seemed to believe entirely in her innocence in the prince's kidnapping.

As for Adrien... Truth be told, he was happier than he had been in a long time. Certainly, living as a cat was not ideal. He would much rather spend time with Marinette as her friend than as her eerily astute pet. He wished with all his heart that he could talk to her. And eating the family's scraps after a lifetime of only the finest foods was something of an adjustment.

But he was in love, and even if she didn't feel the same way (yet), he got to see the object of his affections on a regular basis. He fought by her side whenever news reached the capitol of an impending Akuma attack. While he had the benefit of years of magical training, Ladybug had been fighting alone for months by the time Chat showed up. He had just as much to learn from her as she from him.

For the first time in his life, Chat began to trust the third law of magic. He stopped worrying all the time about needing to keep everyone safe, because any inadvertent damage could be rectified by Ladybug. It felt like he had been holding his breath since the age of ten, and he only now remember how to breathe freely. He had found his equal at last.

And every night, when he was too exhausted to fight his transformation curse any longer, he would come home to his wonderful, amazing sleeping friend and snuggle up to her, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her comforting scent. He was a part of the family. Love lived in that little bakery.

It occurred to Adrien on one of these nights as he drowsed that, while he wanted to be human again, he did not really want to return to his former life. He just wanted to stay here with this family, with Marinette, with his Lady... forever...

But nothing lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Paris was amazing and definitely did inspire me, but it was 4thewords that got my butt in gear to give you guys another chapter. My hope is that I can keep this up and start giving you guys some more regular updates.... if I can afford the account. Stay tuned!  
> Also. Just so people don't think that I'm pulling it out of my butt later down the line. There are actually two more types of magic in this world, but there was no good chance to address them in this chapter.  
> Also also. It's my birthday on the 22nd! I'm gonna be 25... Jesus Christ. All I want for my birthday is comments and validation~


	6. Marinette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding when I said that comments give me life. Also being on vacation in a cabin in the woods with no internet certainly helped with my productivity.

“This is awful,” moaned Chat Noir for the umpteenth time.

“It’s not that bad,” Ladybug replied yet again. Privately, though, she was starting to agree with him. The freezing rain that had lashed them during their battle had subsided into a drizzle, but the muddy ground sucked at her feet with every step and both she and Chat Noir were soaked to the bone.

"Need I remind you of the relationship between cats and water? We don’t mix.” One of Chat’s ears twitched to shake off water, and he cast her a look of utmost misery.

“Poor _minou_ ,” Ladybug cooed, only half-mocking. “At least the rain helped us take down that fire Akuma.”

 These words did have the intended effect of perking Chat up slightly. Unfortunately, a cheerful Chat was prone to wordplay. “Yeah, it really did _dampen_ his attacks, didn’t it?”

Ladybug gave a little groan.

“His powers really _fizzled_ ,” Chat continued. “One could say he was _all washed up_.”

“Chaaaat,” Ladybug whined. She strongly suspected that he rather enjoyed her protests and had no desire to egg him on, but this was become too much.

“Why stop me? I’m only getting _warmed u-_ ” Chat broke off as a series of sneezes racked his lithe frame.

Ladybug frowned. “Catching cold there, kitty?”

"Ugh. Maybe a bit,” Chat admitted, sniffling.

“Do you want me to…?” Ladybug held up a hand to indicate that she could heal her companion.

“Nah. Thanks anyway, Buginette, but I’ll survive. I’m a big tough alley cat.” Chat Noir flexed to make his point, then waggled his eyebrows (or rather, the fur where his eyebrows would be) at her. “See anything you like?”

Sometimes Ladybug worried that her eyes might become permanently stuck with how many times she rolled them in his company. “Really, Chat,” she continued, undeterred. “I could just – ”

“Ladybug.” Chat’s tone had grown sharp, but it was the lack of affectionate nickname that made Ladybug realize that he was serious. “I appreciate it, but you’re exhausted. A little cold isn’t going to kill me. I’ll let you know if I need help. Besides, I have other methods of healing up quickly. Trust me.”

And she did. Trust him, that was. In fact, he was the only one that she trusted with this part of herself, even though the magic was as much a part of who she was as the color of her eyes. Since they had met, they had faced half a dozen Akumas side by side. During the first few, Ladybug had always kept one eye on him, just in case he should decide to turn on her and reveal himself as one of the King’s spies. If he had known, Chat had never let on, nor Chat had he ever let her down. Sometimes too much – just tonight the idiot cat had almost set himself on fire trying to pull her out of harm’s way. He always put her needs and safety before his own, which was exactly why a “little cold” worried her. Had she been any less drained, Ladybug might have been inclined to argue. As it was, she had to concede.

“If it gets any worse, you tell me,” she said with what she hoped was a menacing look.

“I will,” Chat promised. He heaved a great, dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid I will have to bid you farewell, my Lady. Looks this good require a great deal of beauty rest.”

Ladybug knew she shouldn’t. It would just encourage his ridiculous goofiness. But she couldn’t help but appreciate the way her partner’s eyes sparkled with delight when she said “Go catch a few extra catnaps, then. See you in two days’ time?”

“Personally, I say if it’s raining this hard, we forget the whole thing.” Chat wrinkled his nose and looked up at the sky. He was rewarded with a fat raindrop in the eye and gave a cat-like yowl of displeasure.

Ladybug snorted. “Two days’ time, silly kitty,” she repeated, then leaped away, already mentally rehearsing the illusion spell to let her sneak back into the city. Chat was right about one thing – she was completely and totally exhausted.

* * *

Adrien shook off as much water as he could before he climbed through Marinette’s window that night, then took great care in licking himself as dry for good measure. At last, he leaped lightly on to the bed and settled himself near Marinette’s sleeping form. Adrien would have forgone sleeping in the bed altogether and curled up underneath instead, but he had promised Ladybug that he would get well.

His plan was simple. As a Composer, Marinette gave off low-level creative energy. It was imperceptible except to those who had spent a long time around her, and Marinette herself likely did not even know that she was doing it.  Adrien intended to siphon off this energy by being near her and utilize it to heal his cold.

The plan would have worked out well, save for two things.

First, Adrien did not realize that the girl that he from whom he was borrowing energy was one and the same as the girl he had just admonished for pushing herself beyond her limits. If Marinette was not using her powers to such a massive extent on a regular basis, the energy to negate Adrien’s budding cold would have been a drop in a bucket of water. Now, losing a little could mean dire consequences.

Second, Adrien had forgotten that Marinette spent every night sleeping beside a Cataclyst.

* * *

It started with a cough.

An annoying tickle in the back of her throat. Marinette had to turn away from the dough she was making for the latest batch of brioche and bury her face in the crook of her arm again and again. When she sneezed in the flour and sent it flying everywhere, Marinette excused herself from the kitchen and stuck to tending the front of the store.

By evening, the tickle had blossomed into a full-blown ache, and a throbbing had settled behind Marinette’s temples. In spite of this, she insisted on carrying on in the usual duties that accompanied closing the bakery. It was not until Sabine wrested the broom from Marinette’s hands and told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to go upstairs _immediately_ and get into bed that the young woman relented. No summoning or scrying or any other practice tonight. Marinette fell into bed and passed out at once.

In the morning, Marinette woke feeling mildly better. Her headache had gone away. However, when her mother came to check on her and pressed a hand against Marinette’s cheek, she declared that Marinette was running a slight fever. Her cough had also taken on a worrying, phlegmy quality and seemed to have settled deep in her chest. Tom and Sabine held a brief, hushed discussion. In spite of Marinette’s protests about money, a doctor was called.

“A winter cold,” was the doctor’s prognosis. “A day or two of bedrest should be all that she needs. No cause for alarm.” He was gracious enough to take a few loaves of bread in lieu of payment. The bakery breathed a collective sigh of relief.

While ordinarily Marinette would resent being bed-bound, today she was glad of it. She felt weak and shaky. At least she had Félix to keep her company, though he seemed oddly reluctant to be around her. Normally, the black cat stuck to her side like glue, but he had slept downstairs the night before and had made no more than a brief appearance that morning. It wasn’t until Marinette called him hoarsely for the fourth time that he came slinking into the room, tail drooping. He rubbed his head against her hand and then made to flee.

“Nooooo,” Marinette complained, and the cat stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at her. “Stayyyyy, _chaton_. Please? It’s awfully lonely in here with no company.”

Félix gave a burbling little meow as though in response, pacing the floor anxiously, then at last jumped up onto the bed and settled himself at Marinette’s side. “Thank you, Félix.” Marinette laid her hand on his head and allowed herself to slip slowly into sleep. When she woke, it was to the soft patter of rainfall. The window was open, and the cat was gone.

* * *

‘I,’ Adrien thought, ‘am an idiot.’ He was well and truly backed into a corner, and there was no one to blame but himself. Adrien may have been a moron, but he held no self-delusions. He knew who was responsible for ensuring that Marinette – bright, lively Marinette – was currently confined to bed. The so-called “winter cold” had either been brought on entirely or exacerbated by his callous thievery of her innate healing magic. His own toxic presence certainly did not help, either. The afternoon had been spent trying to repress any negative magical energy that might have been leaking off him and infecting dear Marinette further, but Adrien worried that he had not been entirely successful. As soon as he was certain that Marinette was soundly asleep, Adrien crept out of bed. Opening the window required a brief, heart-stopping moment as Chat Noir, but thankfully Marinette had not woken.

Half-baked schemes had roiled in his mind has he snuck out of Papillon. Chat had already concluded that he would have no choice but to admit to Ladybug that he needed a spell for a friend. What he would attach the spell to was another matter. Healing spells generally did not hold up well when applied to talismans. If Ladybug blessed an object, say a stick or a leaf, Chat would have to leave immediately and rush back to Marinette’s side before it lost all potency. Unless Ladybug had the materials needed for a potion? That would take longer to prepare, admittedly, and then he would be faced with the prospect of how to convince Marinette to drink it. A note? Marinette was too smart to drink something left by a stranger. He could reveal himself to her and gamble that she was willing to trust him… If she got much worse, Chat was willing to try it, even if it did mean sacrificing his place at the Dupain-Cheng household…

Unfortunately, all his worrying was for naught. After hours waiting for the Ladybug in their usual meeting place, Chat was forced to conclude that she was not coming. With a sinking heart, he remembered his careless words when last they had met. “I say if it’s raining this hard, we forget the whole thing.” It had just been a stupid joke but his Lady must have taken him at his word. ‘Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.’ Miserably, Chat Noir left the refuge of the trees and headed through the now-driving rain toward home.

As he had two nights previously, Adrien lurked under the narrow overhang of the roof to shake off water. He intended to sleep as far as possible from Marinette, but there was no need to be tracking water through the Dupain-Chengs’ immaculate bakery. As soon as he climbed through the window and the fresh smell of rain stopped enveloping his senses, all thoughts of being too wet flew from his mind.

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sickness. One hand dangled off the bed, and before Adrien could think better, he nuzzled it, only to recoil as her skin scalded his nose. ‘Marinette?’ He jumped up onto the bed to look at her. Marinette lay where he had left her, but her face was flushed red. The rise and fall of her chest was too rapid. Each breath sounded labored and wheezing. Every so often, chills racked her slender frame, strong enough to nearly push Adrien off the bed.

‘Oh, no. Gods, no.’

Adrien tore off, bounding down the stairs three at a time and threw himself against the door that belonged to Tom and Sabine. He clawed at the wood, unleashing the loudest caterwaul that he could muster. ‘Help me. Help me, help me…’

From inside, he caught faint noises as Marinette’s parents roused from their slumber, but he did not stop his wailing until the door opened. Tom appeared, bleary eyed. “’S just the cat,” he yawned.

“Take him outside,” came Sabine’s sleepy voice as Adrien ran frantic circles around Tom’s feet.

“C’mon, kitty.” Tom’s strong hands stopped his running. Adrien bit him, hard enough to draw blood. “Ouch!” Tom dropped Adrien, more from surprise than pain. Adrien at once resumed his panicked scampering. He sprinted to the stairs and sat down at the bottom, howling his distress.

“Sabine, I think something’s wrong,” Tom murmured to his wife. Adrien had disappeared up the stairs before the man had even finished uttering the words. He heard the heavy footsteps of Tom’s following, but did not stop his alarm until he heard Tom say, “Oh gods, Marinette!” and barely missed stepping on Adrien in his haste to get to his daughter.

When he looked back later, Adrien had very little recollection of the next few minutes. Robbed of the momentary purpose that fetching help had given him, Adrien did not know what to do with himself. He vaguely remembered sitting on the desk and watching numbly as Sabine and Tom tended to Marinette. He knew the truth, and deep down so did they. His sense of smell and feline instincts screamed it to him every instant that they spent in the room with the young woman on the bed. Unless someone did something, Marinette was unlikely to live through the night.

The first clear recollection that he had was Tom sitting in the chair from Marinette’s desk, his great body shaking with silent sobs as he pressed his daughter’s hand to his cheek. Sabine was not crying but had a hand on her husband’s shoulder and her face was twisted in a pain that Adrien could not name. Even long after, the image remained in Adrien’s memory, as vivid as a painting. Sometimes he saw it in his nightmares.

“We have to send for him, Tom.” Sabine spoke in a whisper, but her voice seemed deafening in the room that was silent save for Marinette’s uneven breaths. “He’s her only hope.”

 Tom did not argue. He sniffled quietly and wiped one hand down his face, then stood up. “I’ll go.” His voice was ragged. “Look… Look after her, okay?”

“I will,” Sabine promised. Tom clasped her hands briefly in his own, and they shared a look that spoke to something deeper than words, a look of love and fear and trust and shared grief. Then Tom was gone, disappearing down the stairs.

 Adrien hopped down from his post at the desk and crawled onto the bed with Marinette. Any damage from his presence had already been done. Sabine did not send him away, but gave him a weak smile as he burrowed his face against Marinette’s side. Now that Tom was gone, Adrien noticed that she had started crying, quietly. Her tears slipped down her face as she leaned over to mop her only child’s brow with a wet cloth. Adrien closed his eyes and listened to the steady beating of Marinette’s heart, barely audible under her strained breaths. ‘Help is coming, Marinette,’ he thought to her.

* * *

Adrien was not certain how much time passed between Tom’s departure and his return, but it could not have been more than a half hour when he heard two pairs of footsteps on the stairs. Tom reappeared in the room, shadowed by a man in a hooded cloak. Adrien sat up on the bed to stare curiously at the stranger.

The man raised his hands to his hood and lowered it, revealing the blandest, most forgettable face that Adrien had ever seen. His hair was a muddy brown and his eyes seemed almost as colorless as the rain. He even sort of smelled like nothing. He was an utter vacuum of a man.

“This is your daughter, then?” the stranger asked.

“Yes,” Tom said at once. “Can you heal her?” Adrien’s heart leapt. Marinette’s parents had hired an underground Healer!

“Hmmm.” The Healer reached out and took one of Marinette’s wrists in his hand, seeming to check the pulse. “She’s in bad condition. I’ll see what I can do.” He dropped Marinette’s arm and his attention abruptly snapped to Tom and Sabine. “I will require payment, of course.”

Sabine exchanged a glance with Tom, then reached into her pocket. “This… is all we have.” She deposited a small number of coins in the man’s hand.

“Hmmm,” the man said again, shaking the coins in his palm slightly. “It’s not much.” He sighed and pocketed the money. “But it will do. I need to be alone with the patient. Please do not disturb me until I am finished, no matter what you might see or hear. Are we in agreement?”

Hesitantly, Marinette’s parents nodded their consent. “Excellent.” The man made a shooing motion with his hands, ushering Tom and Sabine from the room. With one last glance toward their ailing daughter, they left, closing the door behind them.

It was only once they were gone that the stranger seemed to notice Adrien for the first time. He frowned. Adrien purred at the Healer loudly. If he was human, Adrien could have kissed him.

“Get away, cat,” ordered the man, shoving him off the bed. While he did not appreciate the rough treatment, Adrien obeyed at once. He trotted over to the opposite side of the room and curled his tail around his feet, watching attentively.

The man prodded gently at Marinette. “Poor kid,” he remarked, sounding almost bored. “Oh well.”

 ‘Oh well?’ Adrien’s ears swiveled back and he stared at the man in confusion. Silent as a shadow, he crept closer to the stranger who was now bending over Marinette.

In the faint light of the candlelit room, Adrien’s sharp cat eyes caught a faint glimmer in one of the man’s hands. ‘What…?’ Then he saw the man reaching for Marinette’s other earring, something that Adrien had failed to notice until now, and Adrien understood.

With a yowl, Adrien flung himself at the thief and raked at him with his claws. “Ow!” The man dropped the earring and tried to grab him, but Adrien twisted away, biting and clawing every inch of skin that he could reach. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Adrien flailed helplessly, hissing his fury. Then he was flying, tumbling end over end. The impact against the wall knocked all the breath from his tiny body.

“Tch.” The man wiped the blood from his face. He turned his back on the dazed black cat, stooping to retrieve the fallen earring.

This was a mistake. Of course, the stranger had no way to know that the cat he had just stunned would change shape. Chat Noir grabbed the man by his shoulders and flung him bodily away from Marinette. He placed himself between Marinette and the stranger, his ears flat to his head and his hackles raised.

The man stared at Chat in terror and bewilderment. Clumsily, he tried to scramble to his feet and flee, but Chat had grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall. Chat’s nails dug into his flesh, and the man gave a whimper of pain and struggled. Chat took a breath and allowed his mind to slip into a different state. Chat’s pupils blew wide, and he used one hand to force the man to look him in the eye. “ **Stop** ,” he commanded, his voice thick with mesmer.

At once, all fight went out of the man, and he sagged against Chat. Chat allowed him to fall heavily to the floor. “ **Look at me** ,” was Chat’s next command. The man turned glassy eyes up to the creature who now controlled his very will. Chat internally shuddered, but control was increased with direct eye contact and he had to be certain his commands would take. “ **Tell the truth** ,” was his final instruction before he let the power fade away.

“What were you doing?” Chat was almost certain that he knew the answer, but he needed to hear the man say it.

“I was taking her earrings.” The man’s voice was utterly without affectation.

“And what would you have done after?” Chat asked, barely keeping a lid on his fury.

“I would have searched the room for other valuables and then climbed out the window,” came the man’s toneless reply. “By the time the family noticed, I would have been gone. I would have sold the valuables and used the money to –”

“Stop.” Chat held up a clawed hand. He had no interest in what this filth in the shape of a man would have done with the money that he had stolen from the Dupain-Chengs. Chat stared down at the man, rage and disgust warring in his guts. ‘He would have left her to die.’ Chat cast a glance over at Marinette, still struggling for breath, and his heart tightened in his chest.

Chat grabbed the stranger by the front of his shirt and hauled him up to look him in the eyes. “Do have magic?” he demanded of the man, desperate but without much hope.

“Yes,” the stranger breathed.

Chat’s heart leaped. “Are you a Healer? Or a Composer?”

“No. I pretend to be a Healer.”

Chat blinked rapidly. “Why?” he asked before he could think better of it.

“I am a Plaguist,” the man explained flatly. “I make people ill and then remove my own curse after the family pays me.”

Bile rose in the back of Chat’s throat, and he dropped the man unceremoniously. Fighting the impulse to kick him as he moved away, Chat turned and rushed to Marinette’s side. Carefully, he sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms, shaking her gently. “Marinette. Marinette, please wake up.”

Marinette’s eyelids flickered, but she did not otherwise move. “Please,” Chat repeated, and shook her a little bit harder. “You have to wake up. You have to heal yourself.” Would the effort alone be enough to kill her? It did not really matter. Marinette gave a tiny groan, her head flopping like a ragdoll. She could not be roused.

Icy panic was starting to creep up on Adrien, but this time he was utterly paralyzed. “I… I don’t know what to do,” Chat whispered to no one in particular. “Help me… please help me…” Chat was forcibly reminded of the very first time that they had met, when he had been the one dying of fever. But this time, there was no budding Composer to the rescue. Only a Cataclyst and a Plaguist, and they could do nothing but make her worse. If he could have taken her place, Adrien would have done so in a heartbeat. All he could do was watch her slip away.

“Oh, Marinette, I’m so… so sorry…” A tear dripped onto her too-warm cheek. Chat hadn’t even realized he had started to cry. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, rocking slightly. “I’m sorry… This is all my fault…” ‘She should have just left me there,’ he thought as his sobs shook them both. ‘I’m useless to her like this.’

That was the part that took the situation from agonizing to utterly unbearable. If it were not for the curse, Adrien could have helped her. He could see it in his mind’s eye exactly. The little cabinet squeezed into the corner of the court physician’s office, filled to the brim with various potions. And in the back of all of them, in a tiny glass vial that had been enchanted by a Guardian to ensure that it would not break. The substance in it was a liquid that looked almost like water save for its reddish tint. The court physician had shown this vial to him many times and explained to him that it could save his life someday. The potion inside could cure most physical ailments, injuries, or poisons.

Prince Adrien would have been allowed to take this potion. Prince Adrien could have pitched it from the castle battlements and no one would have batted an eyelash. But Chat Noir could only… could only…

Chat drew away and gazed down at Marinette. The idea that came to mind was ludicrous. Downright suicidal. And yet… And yet did he really want to live in a world where she didn’t exist?

No. The answer came to him with a firmness that surprised him. No. He could not live with himself if she died and he could have done something about it. Abruptly making up his mind, Chat lowered Marinette back onto the bed. For the man in the corner, still lying limp from the initial stop command, he summoned up a mesmer trance again. “ **Do not move. Do not cry out for help. Do nothing until I return, save for breathing.** ” Chat almost told him to help Marinette if she got any worse, but decided against it. God only knew what that monster would construe as “helping”, and he did not have time to give more nuanced instructions.

Chat glided over to the window and opened it. He hesitated for just a moment longer to look at Marinette. Gingerly, he brushed her sweat-dampened hair away from her forehead and pressed a kiss on her brow. “I’ll come back, I promise. I’ll fix everything. Just don’t…” He could not bring himself to say it. “Just hold on,” he whispered instead, and then he was gone. Chat Noir bounded over the wooden rooftops, headed for the castle that he had once called home.


End file.
